


Will & Testament

by AlexCastro



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Bane Chronicles - Sarah Rees Brennan & Cassandra Clare & Maureen Johnson, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Falling In Love, Hurt Alec Lightwood, M/M, Magical Boys, Malec Monday, Malec Week, Malec Week 2016, Nephilim, Protective Alec, Protective Alec Lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:59:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 83,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexCastro/pseuds/AlexCastro
Summary: We saw in 3B-19 how Magnus suffered as a result of Alec leaving, but we did not get to see how the breakup impacted Alec. This is my take on that.Disclaimer: As always, the Mortal Instrument characters belong to Cassandra Clare, and I claim no ownership over the parts of this story belonging to the Shadowhunters TV producers and writers. The rest of it is all of my own creation.





	1. Will & Testament: What Alec did before Jonathan’s attack on Idris

 

_I, Alexander Lightwood, being of sound mind and in complete possession of all my faculties, make this my last Will and Testament..._

Alec paused and examined his handwriting on the page: the letters neat and even, as if they were written by someone whose soul was not in turmoil, by someone whose heart was not shattered in a thousand pieces, by someone who was truly in possession of all his faculties. But he wasn’t. Who could be in complete possession of all his faculties after having given all of oneself to someone else? Who could be of sound mind after having ripped a part of their soul? Who could ever be whole again after having known and lost love like the one he had known and lost? Alec knew that as long as he lived, he would never again know peace of mind and that his heart would never be whole again. Thus, a part of him would always be of unsound mind and not in complete possession of his faculties. 

He took a deep breath trying to reign in his emotions before they overtook him, the air fighting against the tightening in his chest as it went in. He needed to complete this task. A battle was imminent, he knew it, a battle for the present and future of the Shadow and Mundane worlds, a battle against Jonathan Morgenstern, who had made it his mission in life to destroy all that Alec held most dear. He would fight in that battle, and perhaps leave his life in it, and he knew that he did not want to leave this world without putting in writing a truth he had not been able to put into words. He tightened his grip on the pen and brought it back to the page.

_I don’t have much by way of property or wealth,_ he continued writing ** _._** _As a Nephilim, I have dedicated my life, not to the pursue of wealth or glory, but to the safety of the Shadow World. The only thing of true value to me is contained in this box, which, together with this sealed letter, I bequeath to the person that matters to me more than anyone in world, more than life itself: Magnus Bane. I hope that one day, when he no longer resents me, he will be able to read what I have written and hopefully see the value of what I have left him._

Alec signed his name at the bottom of the page, folded it, and then sealed the document with his family’s sigil making his last will and testament official. For a second he gazed down on the document, and then shifted his gaze from it to the small wooden box beside it, the box containing the only thing he had ever wanted to have and give away; the one thing he had hoped would seal his happiness but that now was only a reminder of his sorrow. He lifted the box gently and opened it to look one last time at the silver ring with the Lightwood crest that rested nestled inside. He had been so excited and full of hope when he asked his mother for it; he had felt his spirit soar as he imagined putting the ring in Magnus’ finger, asking Magnus to make him the happiest man alive by accepting his hand in marriage. He had rehearsed his proposal in front of the mirror, searching for the right words to convey the deepness of his love. 

He had been naïve, Alec knew. He had thought that he would be enough for Magnus; that alone, he could make the warlock happy; that he, with all his mortality, frailties and limitations, could make up for what Magnus had sacrificed. He should have known better. He should have known that he could never be enough; that he could never replace what Magnus had given up. He should have guessed that at the end Magnus’ sacrifice would prove too costly. 

_Only a sacrifice can make up for a sacrifice_ , he thought, _only the sacrifice of a life could ever give Magnus his life back and make him whole again._ “Break his heart to save his life,” Asmodeus had said, and Alec had done just that. He had kissed Magnus and at the moment in which their lips met, he had wished with all his heart for time to stop, so he could forever hold Magnus in his arms. He had wished for the moment to be eternal, because he knew that as soon as he began to put distance between him and Magnus, his life force would begin to fade until there was no light left in him. But time had been relentless and too soon, Alec had to rip himself from Magnus, take one step and then another away from the only man he would ever love. Each step had been a torture, a dagger piercing his heart, the feel of Magnus’ incredulous eyes burning a spot between his shoulder blades. With all his strength, Alec had resisted the impulse too look back, knowing that if he did, his determination would falter, and all would be lost.    

The price that Asmodeus had exacted in exchange for Magnus wholeness was Alec’s own life, and he had given it gladly, for Magnus was worth any sacrifice, for there was no price too high for his lover’s happiness. Now, he would go into battle and even if he survived, he did not plan to return to New York. He would leave, search for other paths, perhaps leave the Shadowhunters, wander the world for the rest of his life, limping along, without destination or home. Alec knew he needed to leave, he could not remain in the same city as Magnus, he could not bear watching Magnus from afar, being so close and yet so far from the only person who had ever made him happy. But before he left, he needed to put in writing for Magnus what he could never tell him face to face. 

Alec picked another sheet of paper from the drawer, and carefully put pen to it.

_Magnus, my love,_

_By the time you read this, I will be gone. I have left instructions for Jace to make sure you receive this letter in the event of my death, and if you are now holding it, it is because the fate awaiting all mortals has finally caught up with me.  Perhaps I have died in the battle to defend Idris from Jonathan; perhaps another war has taken me; or perhaps it has been the years of loneliness, absence and sadness that have finally defeated me. Whatever the circumstances, please know, my love, that my last thoughts were of you; that it is your name I carry on my lips as I walk towards the void; and that if there is a life after this one, I will continue loving you in it as I have loved you in this life._

_I broke your heart Magnus; I broke both our hearts. I never wanted to cause you pain, but it was necessary. You see, I had to break your heart in order to ensure that you got your powers and your immortality back. It was the price Asmodeus exacted in exchange for what you need to be whole again. In the process I traded my own life for yours, for even if I survive to live for many years, my life is worthless without you in it. I traded my life for yours because I could not bear seeing you suffer on my account and I could not imagine a world without you in it. It was worth it, my love. After all, I am a simple and mortal human, and what is a mortal life with all its frailty and imperfection when compared to the hundreds or perhaps thousands of years in which you will continue to do good in this world? I know you don’t always think of yourself as good, but I do, my love, my Magnus. I know you are good and that you will continue to do good._

_I leave you my family’s ring, the one I had hoped you would accept along with my hand in marriage. I wanted to share my life with you, Magnus. I wanted to build with you a family, but it could not be. Still, I hope you will still accept this proof of my love and devotion. Even if my dream of calling you my husband never came to be, this ring is still yours; for no matter if I survive the battle against Jonathan and live many more years, there will never be another. You are and will always be the owner of my heart._

“It is time,” Jace said from the doorway. “We are ready to portal to Idris.” 

“I will be right there,” Alec replied and looked from the page to his parabatai, Jace’s face solemn and a little sad, proof that through their shared bond, Jace could feel some of the agony Alec felt. Jace gave him a sad smile before turning and walking away once again, leaving Alec to finish the letter.

_Loving you and being loved by you, my love, are the greatest honors of my life. I would have done anything to make you happy; I would have paid any price for just one more morning waking up with the feel of your body against mine; I would have given up my very soul for one more taste of your lips, for one more kiss, for one more embrace, for one more smile in your lovely face. I would have given my life for just one more chance to have your gaze shine on me again. But alas, life has dealt me this hand, and I must play it to the end._

_Magnus, please know that I am and will forever be yours, in this world and in the next._

_Alexander Lightwood._

Alec lifted the pen one last time and re-read the words he hoped captured all he felt for Magnus. As he read the letter, he felt that every word contained pieces of his soul and that in each line he had left shreds of his skin. As he sealed the letter, he sighed deeply, trying push deep within him the sadness and despondency that threated to overwhelm him. He was a leader and the upcoming battle required all his concentration, if not for his own sake, for those that counted on him. He then placed the will, the letter and the box in the safe, knowing that Jace would find them and do with them what he had asked. 

_It is done_ , Alec thought, _I can now go in peace for all that needed to be said has been said and all that needed to be done, has been done._

He got up and walked towards the door.He turned at the doorway and took one last look at the office that had become his place of work since he became Head of the New York Institute. He thought he would miss sitting at that desk, but that it was time to go and, not matter what, he did not intend to return. He turned off the lights and closed door and the room felt silent, just his footsteps, swift and certain, sounding in the distance, their sound fading as Alec went to confront his fate.

 

**We saw in 3B-19 how Magnus suffered as a result of Alec leaving, but we did not get to see how the breakup impacted Alec. This is my take on that. I hope you enjoy it. Leave a message to let me know what you think.**


	2. Eternal: How Magnus should have found out about Alec’s sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how I think Magnus should have found out about Alec’s reason for breaking up with him. I think this better reflects how well Magnus knows Alec. Tell me what you think.

Magnus gazed out the window towards the New York skyline, the landscape familiar and yet foreign at the same time as if he was seeing it for the first time. The sunlight felt warm on his face, its warmth a sensation he had thought he would never feel again. He lifted his hands and marveled at the way in which the sunlight moved across his skin, golden rays dancing along the back of his hand and between his fingers. When he took a deep breath, he was surprised at how easily the air entered his lungs and filled him with life. 

The sound of footsteps irrupted on his contemplation of the morning light, footsteps that he would have recognized anywhere. No one else walked with such certainty; no one else’s steps were this familiar or could fill him with such anticipation. Those footsteps were a promise, a promise of something to come. And in a moment, their promise was fulfilled, for he felt the indescribable sensation of a pair of arms wrapping around him, long, lean and muscular. They were the arms of his lover, of the man capable of making Magnus forget his dark origins, the centuries of loneliness, wandering and sorrow, the demonic blood that cursed through his veins, and the eternal burden of his ancestry. 

Magnus’ body instinctually leaned back, and the body of his lover was ready to engulf him in its softness and strength, in its familiar scent, in its loving shelter. Magnus thought that even if the world ended tomorrow, he would be okay as long as Alec’s arms contained him. 

“Good morning,” he said, “I have missed you. What took you so long?” 

“I am not here Magnus,” Alec murmured in Magnus’ ear, his voice soft and endearing despite the strangeness of the words. “You are dreaming.” 

The words seemed to have the power to change the quality of the morning and suddenly the light was no longer golden and warm, but rather dreary and cold. The abrupt change caused a lump to rise to Magnus’ throat and he felt that a rock was pressing against his chest. Instinctually, his body stiffened, and when he turned to look at the face he had wanted so much to see, what he saw frighten him even more. For there was Alec’s face, but not Alec’s face at the same time. His features so familiar and loved, were distant, grey and cold, as if all life had drained from Alec’s face, as if he was seeing Alec through a cold grey filter that drained him of all life. What was even more terrifying were Alec’s eyes, the only feature on his face that held any color. Those eyes were familiar and frightening; he had seen them countless times looking back at him from the mirror. They were the yellow and black slit eyes of a cat. 

As Magnus took a step back, the figure of Alec began to morph and transform, mutating until Magnus was face-to-face with a version of himself now standing in front of him, looking back at him through those warlock marks that Magnus both treasured and feared. 

“Who are you?” Magnus asked, his voice sharp. 

“I am you,” the other Magnus replied, in a tone full of mischievousness. “That is, I am the demon part of you, the one you always try to suppress.”

“What do you want?” Magnus tried to settle the rapid beating of his heart. 

“I don’t want anything. I just have some questions,” the demon that was also Magnus replied. “And you don’t even have to answer. Do you truly believe, in your heart of hearts, that the Shadowhunter broke your heart for no reason? Do you truly believe that his love was untrue? Think about it, Magnus; you know the answer.” The demonic Magnus coyly smiled before he turned to leave. 

“Wait,” Magnus tried to stop him. “What do you mean?” 

The other Magnus briefly turned and smiled at him again from the doorway. “I know you have always thought of me as the enemy. But I am a part of you, the part charged with protecting you,” he replied before opening the door and walking out. 

“Wait!” Magnus called again, but demonic Magnus was gone. 

With a startle, Magnus opened his eyes, and found himself back on his bed, the room in darkness despite the morning light shining outside. The cold that had taken permanent residence in his heart and his bones pushed away the memory of the warm sunlight from his dream. He shivered and hugged himself in a futile attempt to get warm, but nothing he did got rid of the freezing cold that seeped deep into the marrow of his bones and that gripped his chest and entrails. Mundanes thought that hell burned, but in fact, hell was dark and icy, a place so removed from the blessing of sunlight that no warmth ever touched it. Even though he was not really in hell, Magnus felt that hell was somehow in him, squeezing him and settling permanently in his chest. He felt that he carried an eternal winter inside. 

Magnus knew that the cold he felt was not just the effect of having Asmodeus in his apartment, Asmodeus who had showed up a few days ago to give Magnus back his magic powers and whom Magnus could now hear pacing and rummaging around in the next room. No, the cold that Magnus felt was worse than hellish winter. It was the kind of cold felt by those whose heart was shattered, a cold full of desolation and misery, the kind of eternal winter that engulfs a soul when love abandons it leaving only absence and yearning behind. Magnus thought that he would never again feel warm, that no matter how hot the sun shone, its warmth would never again touch him because Alec had taken all summers – past, present and future – with him when he walked out of his life. Magnus wished he could be angry at Alec for leaving him, but even that fire had been extinguished. 

“This is just a temporary heartbreak,” Asmodeus had declared after he gave Magnus his powers back, “you are immortal and powerful, and one day this minor entanglement with the Nephilim will be just a distant memory, a silly youthful mistake.” But Magnus did not feel that this was a temporary heartbreak; this heartbreak felt permanent and irreversible. It felt like Alec had, in fact, taken Magnus’ heart with him when he walked out of his life, leaving just an empty cavity in his chest, a cavity that was slowly filling up with ice. 

He suddenly remembered his dream, the face, his face, so familiar and yet so foreign looking at him through those cat eyes. _“Do you truly believe, in your heart of hearts, that the Shadowhunter broke your heart for no reason? Do you truly believe that his love was untrue?”_ The questions echoed in his mind clearer than any thought he had had in the last few days. He swung his feet off the side of the bed and sat up, his hands resting on his knees. 

Making a superhuman effort, Magnus pushed against the confusion of his sorrow and the cold that threatened to overwhelm him, searching in his mind for those memories that just a few days ago he had tried to erase, the memories of Alec. Slowly, the image of Alec kneeling in front of him as Magnus sat in the same spot he now sat came to his mind; Alec looking up at him and smiling broadly, telling him that he would spend the remaining nights of his life happy as long as Magnus allowed him to sleep beside him. Alec walking along a hallway in the Institute, rushing towards a council meeting but still taking the time to reach back to take Magnus’ hand saying: “come Magnus, we don’t want to be late.” Alec walking across his doorway with his unmistakable gait, unconcerned about who else was in the room, his eyes fixed on Magnus, reaching for him, putting his hands against Magnus’ cheeks and kissing him so deeply that Magnus felt like he was suddenly floating. “I missed you warlock; I could not wait to come home to you.” Alec grabbing Magnus by the lapel of his jacket and dragging him towards the bedroom, removing his own t-shirt and boots as he went along - “Magnus, you and I in bed right now.” Alec trembling in his arms, as a powerful orgasm run through his body, telling him that he never thought his heart could contain so much love and so much joy. Alec telling him that he never imagined being this happy or that someone could love him the way Magnus loved him. Alec breathing in his scent, running his nose along his neck and falling sleep with his nose resting against the crook of his neck, his strong arms wrapped around Magnus. Alec moving with Magnus, taking Magnus to the very gates of heaven; Alec’s deep brown eyes looking into Magnus’ cat eyes and telling him that he was beautiful and that he would never have eyes for anyone else. 

Those memories he had tried so hard to erase had the power to push some of his confusion away, and Magnus was suddenly more alert than he had been in days, his thoughts clearer and his mind sharper. At that moment, Magnus knew better than he had known anything else in his very long life that Alec would never leave him unless he absolutely had to. He knew better than he knew his own name that Alec could never have lied about the intensity of his feelings. He did not yet understand Alec’s reasons for breaking up with him, but there was no way that the love he had professed for Magnus had dried up. 

He stood up and walked towards the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. He then run his hands through his hair and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The eyes looking back at him reminded him of the demonic Magnus in his dream. Those eyes seemed to insinuate a truth that still lurked in the depths of Magnus' unconscious, a truth that still could not break the boundary that separated speculation from certainty, but that struggled to make itself known. He could not yet capture that truth in words, it was as if it came to the tip of his tongue but refused to go any further. He turned and headed for the door, knowing that he was missing something, something he was determined to find out. 

“You made a bargain with Alec in exchange for my powers, didn’t you father?” Magnus asked Asmodeus as he walked into the living room a second later. The words formed as if by their own accord in his lips, as if the truth that had been at the tip of his tongue had suddenly leaped out of him, fully formed even if not yet well articulated. He could not tell how he had arrived at that conclusion. It was as if the pieces of a puzzle that a moment ago had appeared random and disorganized had suddenly fallen into place forming a clear picture. 

Asmodeus, whose back was turned to Magnus and whose attention was on the lizard that until yesterday had been Lorenzo Ray and that now paced in a rather frantic manner within its glass enclosure, slowly turned to look at Magnus. But even before he saw the demon’s sheepish expression, Magnus knew with a certainty that was made of steel that his guess was correct, that Alec had sacrificed their relationship and happiness in exchange for Magnus’ powers and immortality. 

“The Nephilim was more than willing to pay the price I asked,” Asmodeus replied, not even attempting to deceive him. “And in my opinion, the price was more than fair.” 

“How could you?” Magnus asked, even though he knew full well that nothing about his father should surprise him. “You know I love him.” 

“Do you Magnus?” Asmodeus asked, his voice full of irony. “If you truly loved him, why were you so miserable and regretful over the loss of your powers? Why wasn’t he enough to make you happy in your new insignificantly mortal life?”

“I would have eventually adapted to my new condition; I just needed time,” Magnus replied. “You did not have to meddle in our life.” 

“Would you have adapted?” Asmodeus retorted. “The Nephilim obviously did not think so. He knew how miserable you were and that he would never be able to fill the void left by your magic powers.  I made a deal with him,” he added, his voice a study in rationality and nonchalance. “Humans are so predictable; they wear their desire and desperation as letters edged on their skin, and let me tell you, the Nephilim was very desperate. Don’t deny it Magnus, you missed the power of your demonic blood, and you were willing to give me anything, pay any price, just to get them back. But as it happens, he came to barter with me first.” 

“I would have never given Alec up, not for all the power in the universe,” Magnus replied even though Asmodeus’ words cut him. Some of what his father was saying rung true even if Magnus wanted very much to deny it. He had been wretched after losing his powers. He, who was hundreds of years old and should have known better, had behaved like a child who had lost his favorite toy. He had willingly given up his powers to save Jace because he loved Alec and could not bear the thought of him losing his brother. Yet, as soon as he struck the bargain with Asmodeus, he had regretted it. For he, who had always strived to have a big life, had suddenly felt insignificant. “I would have never traded my love for Alexander for anything,” he repeated, imbuing in his voice a renewed certainty, “because my love for him is eternal.” 

“You keep telling yourself that, son, but we both know the truth,” Asmodeus made a gesture of dismissal with his hand and then turned towards the table where his drink rested. “In any case, my transaction with the Nephilim is final; there is no do-overs.” 

“We will see about that,” Magnus replied, his voice full of derision, hatred and determination. 

“Oh, come on Magnus, the Nephilim is an insignificant and fleeting human,” Asmodeus interjected. “You are a powerful warlock and royal blood runs through your veins. Even if you have feelings for the Nephilim now, in time, you will come to see that this is just infatuation. I have bigger plans for you, my son, and now that the Nephilim is gone, we can finally put those plans into action.” 

Asmodeus’ smile was smug, full of certainty and arrogance, the smile of someone who thought he had everything under control, someone who knew he had the upper hand, that there was nothing Magnus could do. 

“I don’t care about your plans,” Magnus spitted out. He could feel his magic singing in his veins edging to flow out of him with a force he had not felt in centuries, a force, in fact, he had not felt since the day he vanished Asmodeus back to Edom the first time. 

“Don’t be silly son,” Asmodeus started to say. However, he could not finish the sentence, for, at that moment, Magnus swung his arms in the air, tapping into the forces of nature that fed his magic to create a binding spell powerful enough to imprison a prince of hell. Before Asmodeus realized what was happening, Magnus had him caught in a net made of magic. 

Asmodeus tried to resist but it was useless, because he did not know that in the split second it took Magnus to devise the spell and in an almost instinctual move, he had tied the binding to Asmodeus’ own powers. As a result, the more he resisted, the stronger the magic net wrapped around his body, squeezing him, making him tumble to the floor and immobilizing him. The magic that fueled the binding spell was fed not only by natural forces, but also by the boundless rage bubbling up within Magnus. 

“I vanish you, Asmodeus, Prince of Hell,” Magnus said, his voice heavy with the weight of his powers. While with one hand he controlled the spell with which he had trapped the demon, with the other he drew a circle in the air, forming a whirlpool of energy. “I vanquish you to the deepest corners of Pandemonium.” With all his anger and all his magic, Magnus pushed the bundle that his father had become through the portal, Asmodeus’ expression of surprise and outrage the last thing Magnus saw before the demon disappeared across the magic doorway. 

As the portal closed, the apartment shook and then settled back on its foundations. For a moment, the room expanded, as if it was taking a deep breath that filled it up with fresh air, and the morning light that until a moment ago had appeared distant and foreign suddenly changed into the familiar warmth of a New York spring. Magnus recognized the signs of wards coming down, the wards that his father had put up. The room was suddenly familiar again, warm and airy, and Magnus could finally take a deep breath of warm fresh air. 

He was about to turn and walk towards the door, determined to go in search of Alec, resolute to do anything to get Alec back, but an insistent tapping called his attention to the French doors that led to the terrace. There a flaming paper bird was insistently trying to get in. He opened the door and extended his open hand to receive the fire message. Before opening it, however, something else caught his attention. There were at least five other messages on the terrace floor, messages that unable to reach their destination, had simply fallen and piled up outside the door. He realized that Asmodeus had raised impenetrable wards around the apartment to keep him isolated and out of reach. 

He picked the messages and began to read them one by one, from the first one to the last, each new one sounding more urgent than the last. Three of the messages were from Izzy: one telling him that she, Jace and Alec were going on a mission to separate Clary from Jonathan, asking him to come and help them. The other informed him that Jonathan had escaped and that they were on their way to Alicante, that she was worried about Alec, who seemed distracted and distraught, which was not a good attitude to have when going into battle. _“Whatever happened between the two of you,”_ she wrote in the third message, _“it cannot be so serious that you would leave him to go to battle by himself, so snap out of it and get your butt here.”_  

The remaining messages were from Jace and as soon as Magnus opened the first of these, his heart fell to the bottom of his stomach. _“Magnus,”_ the message read, _“Alec has been_ injured. He is at the hospital in Alicante. I don’t know how serious it is.” The second of Jace’s messages had arrived before sunrise this morning and was written in an almost frantic hand. _“Why haven’t you come?”_ Jace asked. _“Please Magnus, Alec needs you; I need you. I did not want to alarm you before, but Alec’s injuries are very serious. Please come.”_  

The final message, the one that had just arrived, was heavier and bulkier that the rest, but Magnus did not bother opening it, for as soon as he had read Jace’s urgent summon, he had begun to wave his arms in the air bending space to his will, opening a portal powerful enough to pass through Alicante’s powerful wards and reach Alec.  

**This is how I think Magnus should have found out about Alec’s reason for breaking up with him. I think this better reflects how well Magnus knows Alec.  Tell me what you think.**


	3. Parents, Sibling and Spouses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Only parents, siblings, and spouses can visit patients. You are obviously none of those things.” 
> 
> The story diverts from the TV series at this point, hopefully taking us somewhere good.

“As I already told you, you cannot come in,” said the Shadowhunter wearing a white coat and carrying a chart in her hand. Her body posture conveyed both her disdain and her determination to block the person requesting entrance. 

“And, as I told you,” Magnus responded, “I am here to see Alexander Lightwood who was injured in the recent attack.” Magnus’ temper was about to overflow. He needed to get to Alec and this woman insisted in denying him access. 

After several attempts, his portal had finally pierced the heavy wards that protected Idris, but just barely. He had tried to portal directly into Alec’s hospital room, but that had proven impossible because he did not know which room Alec occupied, it had been decades since he had last been in the Idris hospital, and the hospital along with other strategic buildings were doubled warded. Breaking through Idris’ defenses had taken a lot of his energy, and he had only been successful because, at one point, decades ago, Magnus had been hired by the Clave to assist in reinforcing the city’s security. As a result, he knew some of the weaknesses in the security grid.

A few minutes ago, he had finally stepped through the portal and into a small alleyway a few blocks from the center of the city. From there, Magnus had walked at a quick pace towards the central plaza around which the hospital was located. Along the way he had gotten a front row view of the extent of the destruction that Jonathan had inflicted in the city before disappearing, taking with him the horde of demons he had summoned from Edom. Broken walls and shattered windows littered the streets. Nephilim in evident states of shock walked among the debris searching for survivors; others simply wondered in states of confused disorientation. A few noticed him and, recognizing a Downworlder, looked at him with disdains and evident hostility, as if the attack had been the doing of the Downworld, and not of one of the Angel’s Chosen. 

Magnus always disliked coming to Idris. People here lived the kind small town life where everybody knew everybody else’s business and where – perhaps because of being removed from the hustle and bustle of the city – prejudices, bigotry and fear of outsiders run rampant. When it came to the Nephilim, small town life also meant that they rarely rubbed shoulders with Downworlders and, as a result, their bigotry, prejudice and their own sense of superiority never went unchecked. Magnus had only been here for a few minutes and already could not wait to leave. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Warlock,” the nurse stated, her voice full of derision and hostility. “I cannot confirm or deny that the person you are referring to is here; I can only give information to family members, and you are obviously not family, are you?” 

“I am not asking for confirmation; I already know he is here,” Magnus replied, his voice strained, and his teeth clenched as a result of the effort he was making not to lose his patience with the Shadowhunter. “I am here to see him; just check your chart and tell me what room he is in.” 

“Even if that person was here,” the woman replied, not even bothering looking at the chart in her hand, “only parents, siblings, and spouses can visit patients. You are obviously none of those things.” 

With a gesture of dismissal, the woman turned to leave, but Magnus was not about to give up. He was at the end of his tether but made a last superhuman effort to keep his rage under control. Typical, he thought, of all the people he could have encountered, he had to come face to face with a bigot. But then he thought again and realized that this woman, with her tight face and long black hair tied in a pony tail, was not any different from many Nephilim and mundanes he had encountered in the centuries of his life. Humans were prejudicial, and the Nephilim were perhaps among the worst of them. Many mundanes societies had recently passed laws that legally recognized and granted rights to same-sex couples. Yet, Magnus could still remember times when those couples enjoyed no rights or recognition. He even had friends whose partners had died alone in hospital rooms they could not entered because they were not recognized as spouses.  Some of those friends had also experienced their life partners’ families’ rejection, families who took advantage of the law to exclude them from decisions about the care of their loved one. Mundane society had made some progress when it came to diverse sexual identities, but the Nephilim still held on to old, outdated and bigoted conceptions of morality and family. Magnus knew that even if he and Alec were married, the Nephilim would still refuse to recognize him as Alec’s legitimate spouse. 

“Listen,” Magnus said, his voice firm and forceful, “you either provide me with the information I am requesting and let me see Alexander, or I will create such a scene that it will rival Jonathan’s attack.” He did not need to look down to know that red sparkles were coming alive between his fingers. He could feel the magic building within him, threatening to erupt and bring destruction on everything around him. 

“Are you deft?” the woman snapped. “I know Warlocks are old, but are you also stupid? I already told you…” 

“Let him pass,” came the clear voice of Isabel Lightwood from an elevator that had just opened behind Magnus. “He is my brother’s partner.” 

Magnus turned and the sight of Izzy’s face almost brought tears of joy to his eyes. 

“As I explained,” the nurse continued to argue, her voice sounding more and more like the voice of a petulant child. “Only family members are allowed in the intensive care unit.” 

“Magnus is family,” Izzy replied as she took a step closer and put her hand on Magnus’ arm. “He is my brother’s lover,” she added and, not even bothering to wait for any further retort, pulled Magnus towards the elevator, the door immediately closing on the nurse’s furious face. 

Izzy pushed a button and as soon as the elevator started its journey upward, she turned her own stern gaze on Magnus. “You took your sweet time, didn’t you? Do you know how many messages we sent? What? Were you waiting for an invitation to the funeral Magnus?”

“I am sorry,” Magnus started to say. 

“Sorry?” Izzy interrupted him, her expressions reflecting an anger Magnus had rarely seen in Alec’s younger sister. “Alec was seriously injured, Magnus. He may not make it, he, he…” Izzy could not finish whatever she had intended to say, for at the mention of Alec, her face started to crumple, and a sob escaped her lips. As Izzy’s anger began to deflate, her strength seemed to abandon her, and she began to sway. If Magnus had not wrapped his arms around her, she would have collapsed to the ground in a puddle of tears. 

“I am sorry, Izzy,” Magnus said through the knot in his throat, “I did not get your messages until a few minutes ago. I came as soon as I got them.” Magnus’ heart was beating at double speed. Izzy did not cry easily and if she was now dissolving in tears in his arms, it was because things were bad. He was afraid to ask, even though, at that moment, he needed to know that Alec was okay more than he needed air to breathe. Alec who had sacrificed his own happiness for Magnus’, who was willing to walk away from him just so Magnus could have his powers back. How could he ever pay that debt to Alec? How could he ever make it up to him? Magnus did not know, but of one thing he was sure, he was willing to die trying. 

“How bad is it?” he finally asked, his voice soft and tentative. He needed to know but dreaded the answer at the same time. 

“It is bad, Magnus,” Izzy said between barely contained sobs. “He was ambushed by two Eidolon demons. He did not know what was happening until it was too late. The doctor says that he-he-he is dying; that the poison is spreading too fast; that there is nothing more they can do.” Izzy shoulder shook violently as a new wave of sobs overtook her. 

Magnus’ stomach took a nose dive, his knees suddenly threatened to give out, and he was sure that all blood had drained from his face. Eidolon demons were some of Edom’s worst and most deadly creatures; just the poison of one was enough to kill an elephant and Alec had been attacked by two. What was worse, Eidolon poison targeted the angelic part of the Nephilim, changing their nature from the inside out, and turning them into mindless monsters before killing them in the most horrific and painful of ways. Many Shadowhunters had chosen a quick death rather than allowing the Eidolon poison to take its course. He had never seen a victim himself but had heard horrific stories of Shadowhunters having to kill their own parents who had been turned into monsters as a result of Eidolon poison. Magnus needed to get to Alec, he needed it with an urgency that made his skin prickle and his heart race. As the elevator continued its slow ascend, Magnus began running through his rather limited arsenal of cures for demonic poisoning at the same time that he wondered whether he should call Catarina to come help. 

“Catarina says that she has already tried everything,” Izzy stated as if reading Magnus’ mind. 

“Catarina is here?” If Magnus felt a sense of foreboding before, now he was feeling truly despondent. If Catarina, who knew more about healing than Magnus would ever know, was saying that there was nothing else she could do, then the situation was truly hopeless. 

“We called her when you failed to reply to Jace’s message,” Izzy explained as she run a hand through her face hastily drying her tears and taking on the posture of strength and certainty that she always took when she was about to go into battle. “Mom and dad are here, and I don’t want them to see me cry,” she explained as she faced the elevator door in anticipation for its arrival on the floor where Alec’s room was located. “I don’t want them to be worried about me too.” 

The doors finally opened, and Magnus and Izzy stepped out and onto a waiting room in which Robert and Maryze Lightwood were sitting in opposite ends of long couches. Robert’s face was apparently impassive, the face of a Nephilim raised to expect death, for that was the duty of all Shadowhunters: to die protecting the world against demons. Yet, Magnus could tell that Robert was barely holding on. Maryze, on the other hand, sat with her head buried in her hand. Luke sat beside her and patted her back in an attempt to comfort her. 

“What is this warlock doing here?” Robert asked getting up and walking in Magnus and Izzy’s direction, anger and desperation clearly written on his face. It looked like Robert had aged a hundred years since the last time Magnus saw him, likely all of them in the last few days. 

“He is here to help Alec,” Izzy replied stepping in front of Magnus in a defensive posture that, if the situation had not been so dire, Magnus would have thought comical; for Izzy barely reached the middle Magnus’ chest. 

“He is no family,” Robert spat out; “he has no right to be here, and there is nothing he can do that the doctors have not already tried.” Robert did not say as much then, but Magnus suspected that he blamed him for Alec’s condition, that the old Nephilim somehow thought that what had happened to Alec was somehow divine punishment for his relationship with a Downworlder. 

“I don’t have time for this, Robert.” Magnus tried to keep his voice steady despite the fact that his clenched fists itched to punch Alec’s father in the face just for standing on his way. “I need to go heal your son.” 

“Let him pass, Robert,” came Maryse’s small and sad voice from the couch. “Alec would want to see him.” 

“He is the reason our son is in this situation!” Robert voice rose at least octave. “He corrupted our son.” 

“Alec loves him, father,” Izzy responded, her voice even and certain. At this dismal and wretched moment in which everything appeared lost, Izzy was determined to speak for his brother even if that meant to go against the family patriarch. “And if anyone can do anything for Alec now, it is Magnus.” 

“I can heal him, Robert. I swear I can.” Magnus was not at all sure he could, but he knew he had to try; he knew that he would go to the end of the earth and beyond to find a cure for Alec. 

A Nephilim in a doctor’s coat walked in at that moment, Catarina a step behind, her face somber and the weight of the world on her shoulders. “It is time,” the doctor said. “If we are going to preserve his angelic soul, we need to disconnect him now, or the poison will continue to take its course and, in a few hours, there will be nothing left of him to salvage.” 

“What?!!,” Magnus cried out as he sidestepped Izzy and her father and walked towards the doctor and his friend. “Catarina, there must be something you can do.” 

“I am sorry, Magnus,” Catarina said, her voice full of anguish and her face a study in compassion. “This is beyond my powers and skills. The poison is advancing too quickly. Perhaps I could have done more if this had been only one demon, but he got attacked by two. I am so sorry.” 

“The longer we keep him in life support, the more the poison advances,” the doctor said, not looking at Magnus but speaking directly to Robert and Maryse. “Our traditions dictate that we must protect the angelic life force at all cost. If the poison continues to spread, Alec will not be able to rest in the Silent City like a true Shadowhunter.”

“No,” Magnus’ stern reply sounded foreign even to him as if someone else had spoken, as if the voice was not his own. “I can cure him; we can cure him Catarina, please, don’t let them do this.” 

“We must do what is best for our son’s soul,” Maryse said as she got up and came to rest a hand on Magnus’ arm. “It is the destiny and the duty of all Shadowhunters to die in the service of the Angel and continue serving the Nephilim even after death as part of the Silent City’s foundations. Alec would not want it any other way, Magnus. You know that.” Maryse’s voice contained a sadness and despondency that rivalled Magnus’. 

“Mom, there must be something we can still do,” Izzy pleaded, looking at her mother with supplicant eyes. “We cannot just give up.” 

“We have done all we can,” Robert stated, turning and putting his arms around his daughter. “The doctors are right; we have to do what is best for Alec’s soul; that is all that we can do for him now.” 

“You should say your goodbyes,” the doctor interjected. “We don’t have much time.” 

Catarina approached Magnus and put her arms around him, her small frame barely containing Magnus’ tall and muscular figure. “I am so sorry, Mags. I did all I could, but it was hopeless even before I got here.” 

Magnus bent forward and rested his forehead on Catarina’s shoulder, tears streaming down his face, his heart shattering in a million pieces. The world was coming to an end, he thought, and he wanted it to crush him as it came down. The memory of Alec’s face smiling at something Magnus had said, of his fingers brushing the hair out of Magnus’ face, of his arms sheltering him, suddenly assaulted him. Alec was young, too young and too vital to simply die. Alec could not die without Magnus having a chance to tell him that he understood, that he loved him with a strength that knew no bounds. He needed to see Alec, touch him, take his hand and kissed his lips. He needed it more than he needed air, more than he needed his own powers and immortality, which would be worthless if Alec was no longer in the world. He needed to feel once again the warmth of Alec’s eyes when he looked at him and the steadiness of Alec’s heartbeat against his ear. He needed to feel Alec’s steady breathing and see his childlike face when he slept beside him. 

“No,” he suddenly said again as his back stiffened and he stood straight. The word surprised him once again because he did not know where it came from and what it meant. “No,” he repeated, an idea slowly taking form in his mind; a crazy, demented and farfetched idea, but an idea, nonetheless.  “I will not let him go; he will not die on me like this.” Magnus took a step back and after looking at Catarina with a determination that was more stubbornness than certainty, snapped his fingers commanding his magic to form a shield. He then turned and expanding the shield between him and the rest of the people in the room, started walking backwards in the direction of the room in which his lover, his partner in life, the man he loved, waited for him to come to his aid. 

“What are you doing Magnus?” Maryse said, taking a step in his direction. But Magnus did not reply. Instead, he opened the door to Alec’s room, stepped inside, and closed it again before lifting powerful wards around the room to stop anyone from entering. 

Alec’s parents came to the window that separated Alec’s room from the waiting area, and started banging on the glass, the sound coming muffled due to the wards that Magnus had erected. 

“I will cure him,” Magnus stated, hoping that they will hear him. “I will cure him, I swear I will, or I will die trying,” he repeated, looking at Izzy and Maryse in turn, his eyes full of conviction, before turning to look at Alec’s prostrated figure on the bed. 

“Magnus, what’s going on?” came Jace’s uncertain voice from a corner of the room where he has been standing against the wall keeping watch over Alec. 

“Good you are here,” Magnus said matter-of-factly as he walked towards Alec’s bedside and sat, taking Alec’s hand in his and bringing it towards his lips. He gazed at Alec’s face, taking in his grayish complexion, the thin layer of sweat that covered his forehead and the bluish tone of his lips. Alec’s hand felt clammy, a sign that he had a fever and the dark shadows under his closed eyelids were evidence of the fight that Alec had put up against the poison running through his veins. A tube was inserted down Alec’s throat, a tube that connected him to a respirator that kept pumping air into his lungs with detached steadiness, and IVs delivered drugs and fluids into his veins. 

“I am here Alexander,” Magnus whispered. “I am sorry it took me this long, but I am here now, and I will not let anything happened to you.” 

“What is going on?” Jace asked again looking from Magnus to the window where the anguished faces of his family were clearly visible. Robert’s expression was murderous, and Maryse and Izzy were huddled together, Izzy’s arms around her mother. 

“Did you know they were going to disconnect him?” Magnus asked.

“What?” Jace asked, his voice and face reflecting renew astonishment. 

“The doctors want to let him die,” Magnus replied, his voice acquiring a deathly steadiness as he examined Alec and took stock of the equipment and monitors that were keeping him alive. “They say that there is nothing more to be done. But I know that there is… There must be,” he added in a lower voice, a voice that betrayed the fact that he really did not know what he was doing. His were the actions of a drowning man, a man determined to go down fighting. 

“They want to disconnect him?” Jace asked, his tone incredulous. “They can’t do that, he will fight this, I know he will. They can’t do this… You can’t do this” he added turning towards the window, his voice getting louder and most desperate. “You cannot let my brother die.” 

A banging sound had begun outside, a banging against the wards that Magnus had put up. Several Shadowhunters with security badges had arrived and they were trying to get in. Magnus’ wards were strong, but they were using a lot of his powers. It was only a matter of time; security would eventually get in, and the longer he kept the wards up, the more power he would have to divert from taking care and hopefully healing Alec. 

“Mom, father,” Jace called out and the banging stopped momentarily. Jace came to the window and put one hand against the glass. “You cannot do this. He is my brother; you have to give him a fighting chance.” 

“Jace,” Robert replied, “we have to protect his angelic essence. The longer the poison is in his system, the less a Nephilim he will be. If the poison changes him, Alec will not be able to rest in the Silent City. You know he would not want that. Please open the door.” 

Magnus heard the exchange as if from a distance; for all his attention were concentrated in assessing Alec’s condition and in keeping the wards up. “I will not let anything happen to you,” he kept repeating in his mind as he run a hand a few millimeters over Alec’s body, using his magic to diagnose and assess. The information that his magic gathered only confirmed how dire things really were. 

The banging soon resumed, stronger and more urgent than before and Magnus knew that they were out of time. “Do you trust me Jace?” he asked turning to Alec’s parabatai. “Do you trust that I will cure Alec even if it cost me my life?” 

“Yes,” was Jace only and certain answer. 

“Then, hold on, we are leaving.” Magnus stood up, lifted his arms in the air and began to call on the forces of nature that fed his magic. 

The room began to shake violently, the lights flickered, and a panel on the wall above Alec’s head exploded in a flurry of electric sparkles that momentarily blinded Jace. He heard a loud bang followed by a momentary loss of gravity as if a tornado had picked up the room and everything in it. A second letter, gravity pulled Jace back to the ground as the room settled on foundations that were not its own. 

At the same time that he used his magic to ensure that the machines that were keeping Alec alive did not fail, Magnus cast an ancient spell, a spell he had never used before, in a language that had not been spoken in thousands of years, a spell that lifted the whole room and transported it elsewhere. 

The force of the spell threw the people in the waiting room backwards a few steps, and smoke and dust momentarily obscured everything and made breathing difficult. The lights went out at the same time that a strong seismic wave shook the whole hospital. As the dust settled, Izzy stood up and stepped in the direction of Alec’s room. But there was no room anymore, just emptiness where the room used to be, cables and pipes hanging from the walls like the bowels of a dying monster. The room in the level below was clearly visible through a hole in the floor, and the startled faces of strangers were illuminated by the sunlight filtering through gaping hole in the hospital’s roof.


	4. Agony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s both swear,” Jace replied, “not you to me or me to you, Magnus, but to Alec. Let’s both vow to him that we will protect his angelic soul at all cost.” Jace extended his hand and Magnus took it firmly and at that moment, brother and lover were of one mind. They would make every effort to save Alec, even if saving him meant losing him forever to a death that would leave them both empty and broken.

As soon as he felt his feet hitting the floor once again, Jace turned, seraph blade in hand, ready to defend or attack. The room was in smoky darkness, a darkness interrupted only by the last of the electric sparkles still erupting from the panel on the wall. Dust and the last remnants of whatever spell Magnus had performed made the air feel dry, stifling and electrified. As the room gave a last shutter and settled in unexpected silence, Jace squinted as he scanned the scene before him. His eyes found Magnus’ barely visible figure, standing beside Alec’s bed, his arms in the air, the last traces of fiery red magic still sputtering from the end of his fingers. 

“What happened?” he asked, but Magnus did not reply. Instead, he turned towards Alec, checking, Jace suspected, that Alec was still breathing. Without a word, Magnus snapped his fingers and began to wave his arms in the air, blue and purple magic flowing from his fingertips, fusing electric cables together and reconnecting the monitors to the energy sources they needed to do the job of keeping Alec alive. Once he ascertained that all the equipment was back on line, he snapped his fingers one last time and the lights came on in the room and a set of French doors flew open sucking the dust from the air, making it possible for Jace to breath and see clearly once again.  

“We are safe for now,” Magnus stated curtly, and with a last wave of his arms, lifted wards around the place before collapsing on one knee, his energy almost completely depleted by the effort it had taken to transport a whole hospital room through Idris’ heavy wards and across who knows how long a distance. 

“Magnus!” Jace exclaimed as he came to crouch beside the warlocks and placed his hand in his arm, the gesture meant to stop Magnus from completely collapsing to the floor. Jace could see just how pale Magnus was, as if the spell had drained not only his powers but also all the blood from his body. 

“I am fine,” Magnus said through shallow breaths, “I just need a minute.”

Jace helped Magnus to an armchair and once the warlock was settled, scanned the room once again, slower this time, trying to take stock of the situation and get his bearings. What he saw surprised him. It was as if Alec’s hospital room had suddenly merged with another to make something completely new: a hybrid in which the sterile functionality of a hospital merged with the stylish features of a summer home. Alec’s hospital bed and the monitors that kept him alive were still there, as were sections of the wall containing the panels with the valves, tubes and cables needed to operate the medical equipment his brother needed. Parts of the hospital’s sterile tile floor had fused with warm hardwood floors, sections of which were covered in Persian rugs in warm tones of red and orange. The walls that until just minutes ago had been bare and white now sported yellow and blue sections, and pieces of artwork and paintings sprouting here and there as if they were plants breaking through soil. An institutional looking light fixture competed with an intricate crystal chandelier for the privilege of illuminating the room from a ceiling that was a patchwork of white tiles and intricate wooden beans. In the place where Jace had last seen his adoptive family’s worried faces, French doors now led out to an unfamiliar terrace. It was as if one room had been superimposed over another and the resulting effect was a confusing mixture of styles and fixtures that were never meant to coexist in the same place and at the same time. 

The scene outside the doors was even more disorientating. Less than five minutes ago, Jace had been gazing out a small window in Alec’s room, looking out towards an Idris’ central plaza bathed in morning light. Now, the French doors framed a dark moonless night. He was sure he could hear the sound of the ocean nearby, and when he turned to his right, he could see the faint electric lights of a small town barely discernible in the distance. The air smelled of salt and seaweed, and the occasional call of seagulls were the only sounds piercing the silence of the night. 

“Where are we Magnus?” he asked turning to the warlock who still sat in a butter yellow armchair that, Jace knew, had not been there before Magnus brought them to this strange place. 

“We are as far from Idris as I could possibly take us without leaving the planet,” Magnus replied. He pinched his nose with his thumb and index finger as if trying to stave off a headache. “We are in Australia, in a beach house I bought from a friend back in the 80s.” 

“Australia?” Jace asked more to himself than to Magnus. Now that the adrenaline was subsiding, he not only felt disoriented, but his head was also beginning to spin, and his stomach was waging a battle against nausea. He felt as if he had been picked up by tornado, turned about and dropped in an unfamiliar place. 

“What you are feeling are the effects of the spell I just used,” Magnus stated, answering one of the many questions rattling inside Jace’s skull. “Transporting a whole room, including the people in it, to the other side of the world takes powerful magic and can have nasty side effects. My powers were diminished to begin with from portaling into Idris. I am sorry; the ride was not as smooth as it would have been, had I been stronger. You will feel better after a drink.” Magnus snapped his fingers and two glasses appeared on the side table. After offering one to Jace, he took a long swing from the other, before resting his head back and closing his eyes. 

“You are exhausted,” Jace observed. “Is there anything I can do?” 

“I will feel better after I rest for a minute,” Magnus replied. “Food would be good too, but I doubt there is anything in the kitchen. My housekeeper maintains the place, but I doubt she keeps the kitchen stocked. We will have to wait until morning to get provisions. We should both get some rest; you are looking a little pale, Jace.” 

“Not as pale as you, I am sure,” Jace replied, trying to sound nonchalant but barely concealing his concern and discomfort. “How is Alec?” Jace gazed towards the inert figure of his brother lying still on the bed, apparently oblivious to their most recent ordeal or change of scenery. 

“His condition is unchanged for now,” Magnus replied, following Jace’s gaze. The only sounds coming from where Alec laid were the beeping of heart monitor and the mechanical sound of the respirator, blowing air and life into his lungs with detached steadiness. “I could not let him die, Jace,” Magnus added, sadness, desperation and perhaps even a little hopelessness coloring his voice. “I could not let him go without a fight.” 

“Does that mean that you have a plan to cure my brother?” 

“I will have one soon, I promise. For now, we are safe here. No one knows about this house, not even Catarina, and as long as we remain as far away from the Clave as possible, Alec will be safe.” 

“He was safe in Idris,” Jace refuted. “He was being looked after by our best physicians. Couldn’t you have healed him there?” 

“Didn’t you hear? They were getting ready to disconnect him.” 

“But they wouldn’t have if they knew you would find a cure,” Jace replied, his voice questioning as he tried to understand Magnus’ sudden and rather unexplainable actions. “They would have waited; my parents would not have let Alec go if there was a chance that you could heal him.” 

“I could not take the chance. Alec was not safe in the Clave’s hands. Trust me.” 

“What do you mean he was not safe? What are you afraid of?” Jace asked, the apprehension in Magnus’ voice feeding his own. 

“Of all possible ailments that demons can inflict on the Nephilim, Eidolon poisoning is the one that terrifies the Clave the most,” Magnus replied. “Believe me when I tell you that that doctor was not just acting out of concern for Alec when he recommended to disconnect him. The Clave is afraid of the infection and of its effects on the Nephilim. We better not alert anyone of our location, so, for now no communications with your family, okay? We need to fly under the radar while I look for a cure.” 

“You are afraid of what the Clave may do, aren’t you?” Jace asked, more to confirm than to find out. Magnus’ words and expression already betrayed fear. 

“Did they explain what Eidolon poison does to the Nephilim?” Magnus asked by way of an answer. 

“Not really,” Jace stated. “I wasn’t there when the doctor spoke to our parents.” 

“Have you heard of demon pox?” 

“Yes,” Jace replied, “but most people think that it is just a myth; stories told to frighten children.” 

“It is not a myth,” Magnus said and Jace could see the warlock’s effort to keep all panic from his voice. “It is just very rare, and cases are usually kept secret due to fear, shame and embarrassment. Eidolons are one kind of demon species capable of infecting the Nephilim with demon pox, a very nasty form of it, as a matter of fact. Demon pox attacks the angelic part of the Nephilim, mutating it, and transforming the body and the soul into something menstruous and evil. In its last stages, victims become mindless and rabid beasts, incapable of controlling the urge to attack. The disease is not contagious in its early stages but before the poison kills them in the most horrible way imaginable, it gives its victims the urge of passing on the illness. That is why, and in order to protect whatever is left of the angelic soul, many Nephilim in the past have chosen death before the disease runs its course. And, since there is no known cure _yet_ , the Clave prefers not to let the infection progress.” 

Jace noticed the mixture of hesitation, doubt and stubbornness in Magnus voice, the way he had emphasize the word ‘yet’ when speaking of a cure, as well as the grim expression in his eyes when describing the course of the illness. It was clear to Jace that a battle was waging inside Magnus: hopelessness and stubbornness fighting for control. “Do you have a plan?” he asked hesitantly, fearing the answer but unable to let go of hope. 

“I have a couple of ideas,” Magnus tentatively replied. 

“That does not sound very promising Magnus. For what you describe, this illness is horrendous, and attacks the part of us that makes us Nephilim. I understand why my parents would consider disconnecting Alec. Our Nephilim nature is the most important part of ourselves, one that we must protect. So, I hope you have more than a couple of ideas.” 

“I will save Alexander, Jace; I will.” Magnus’ expression was now the expression of a drowning man grasping at straws. 

“And if you can’t?” Jace interjected. “Will you sacrifice Alec’s soul in the hope of a cure?” Jace would have never considered the possibility of Alec dying. In fact, he could not fathom a world empty of his brother’s steady and stable presence. He knew that Alec’s death would feel like the loss of a limp or half his heart, that he would forever limp along without Alec. But he also knew that Alec would never agree to sacrifice his own soul. 

“It will not come to that,” Magnus replied. 

“But what if it does?” Jace argued. “What if the poison begins to destroy Alec’s soul? We cannot let that happen Magnus. Alec would never forgive us if we let him become a monster.” 

“I will make you a solemn promise, a vow,” Magnus stated somberly, “if it comes down to it, if I cannot find a cure in time, I will end Alec’s life myself.” Magnus’ eyes were shinning with unshed tears, and Jace thought he had never seen him this sad or resolute. 

“Let’s both swear,” Jace replied, “not you to me or me to you, Magnus, but to Alec. Let’s both vow to him that we will protect his angelic soul at all cost.” Jace extended his hand and Magnus took it firmly and at that moment, brother and lover were of one mind. They would make every effort to save Alec, even if saving him meant losing him forever to a death that would leave them both empty and broken. 

Magnus set out to work then, gathering books and all the materials needed to mix the potions and cast the spells he hoped would safe Alec. As soon as the sun came out, Jace ventured out in search of food, returning a while later with bagels, coffee, and an assortment of cheeses. They ate in silence in the kitchen before Magnus, feeling a bit stronger, went back to work. 

Jace resigned himself to keep watch by the window, standing in the posture of a soldier guarding a precious treasure, his hands interlaced behind him, his back straight, his eyes fixed on the scene before him. His phone kept vibrating in his pocket, an increasing number of missed calls and panicky text messages glaring at him from the screen every time he looked at it, until it eventually run out of batteries and finally fell silent. 

Every so often, Jace turned from the terribly desperate scene unfolding in the room to look out the window, the view outside a striking contrast to the battle Magnus waged inside against the inexorable advance of the poison cursing through Alec’s veins. From his vantage point, Jace could see men and women of all ages in summer dresses, jogging outfits, or surfing suits. Many of them carried boards under their arms and with easy steps strode on warm sand towards an ocean that was bluer that any Jace had ever seen, its surface disturbed every so often by magnificent waves. As hours passed without any sign of hope, Jace’s mind began to wonder. He thought about those people outside who went about their normal lives without suspecting the terrible dangers that lurked in the shadows, dangers against which he had dedicated his life to fight. Could he ever be an effective warrior if Alec was no there to stand beside him? He asked himself. Would the fight be even worthwhile if his brother was no longer there? Would him and Magnus ever be the same if Alec was no more? Could he ever face his family again if Alec died far away from those that loved him and whom he loved? 

As he watched Magnus mix potions and cast spells that made the air in the room feel dry and full of unfamiliar smells, the sinking feeling in Jace’s chest grew stronger. He did not need Magnus to say anything; the increasingly despondent expression on his face told Jace that this was a battle that Magnus was slowly but inexorably losing. As the clock in the table beside Alec’s bed marked the hours, Jace became even more aware that they were running out of time. 

Eventually, the many hours of vigil, the fight against exhaustion and the drastic time difference began to make themselves known in the increasing ache in Jace’s muscles. As the sun began to set somewhere behind the house, the last of his stamina runes finally burned out, and Jace could no longer keep his eyes open. Seeing him sway from side to side, Magnus finally insisted that he take a break and giving up any attempt to protest, Jace finally fell asleep on the armchair in which hours before Magnus had rested. 

A couple of hours later when the day had grown old, and sunlight had given way to an orange twilight, Magnus found himself sitting once again beside Alec’s bed, his lover’s hand in his own, the steady pumping of the respirator the only evidence that Alec still drew breath. Spell books, herbs and potions of all kinds littered the floor and every possible surface, and the air smelled of magic, healing potions and hopelessness. 

“Would it be too much to ask that you open your eyes, Alexander, even if to yell at me for being so reckless in bringing you here?” Magnus asked. He then brought Alec’s hand to his lips and turning it kissed the inside of his wrist, the scent of the man he loved stronger there than anywhere else. Since their arrival last night, Alec’s complexion had grown even paler if that was possible, his cheeks seemed even more sunken, and the shadows under his eyes had acquired a dark purple tone. Otherwise, Alec remained still and unresponsive. The respirator’s maddening rhythm, and the beeping of the heart monitor the only signs that Alec still had life coursing through him. 

“Please Alexander,” Magnus added, his tone both a plea and a prayer. “I have tried everything I can think of. Please open your eyes, please don’t leave me, I need you. You are my life and my soul, please come back to me.” Each word seemed to weaken the dam that had been holding Magnus’ tears and the last word came out in a sob that originated in the deepest part of Magnus’ heart. 

In the centuries of his life, he had never felt so hopeless and helpless. He had never felt like his powers were so useless. He, who knew more about magic than most warlocks, who had performed more spells than most magic makers get to perform in a lifetime, could not find the cure he so desperately was searching for. For hours, he had mixed potions of strength and endurance which he had administered to Alec at the same time that he cast spells to fortify Alec’s heart and ward his soul. He had also consulted every book of spells and healing he had, even those that contained the darkest of magic, but nothing had worked. With each hour and with each new failure, he had grown more desperate and more powerless. He was losing this battle; he knew it even if he could not bring himself to admit it, and Alec’s paler complexion, his sunken cheeks, the deepening purple under his eyes told him that he was running out of time. 

Magnus closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Alec once again and the scent and the feel of Alec’s long fingers in his evoked the image of Alec’s smiling face and gentle touch. Alec had the hands of a warrior, rough and calloused in those places in which his hands had gotten used to holding the bow string, nocking an arrow, and wielding a blade. Yet, in the time they had been together, he had never touched Magnus with anything else but gentleness and softness. Even when in the grip of the most burning passion, Alec had always touched Magnus with loving care, always asking if he was okay, if he has hurt him. Gentleness and softness had been Alec’s most powerful weapons against Magnus’ defences, and with them, he had managed to make Magnus surrender over and over again. Magnus had loved others before, but he was now sure that he had never truly been in love until this young inexperienced man walked into his life and so easily made a home for himself in it. But now, he was losing Alec, and Magnus could not bear the thought of an eternity without him. 

Magnus run his nose up and down the inside of Alec’s wrist, committing to memory the unmistakable scent of his lover, evoking with all his mind and heart the loving memories of Alec, tears running down his face and into the sheets. For a long while and with all his might, Magnus silently called out to Alec, beckoning him to open his eyes, calling him with all his heart and all the love that seemed to overflow from deep inside him. 

“Look at me,” he eventually said with a deep sigh as he tried to keep hold of his emotions. “What would you say if you saw me, the all-powerful warlock, in this state of despair.” He reached in his vest pocket for a tissue with which to dry his tears but instead his fingers touched the edge of the message that Jace had sent him all those hours ago, the message he had hastily stuck in his pocket as he got ready to portal to Idris determined to get to Alec. 

Taking out the message, he saw that it was unusually heavy, an envelope instead of the regular one-sheet. He opened it and when he unfolded the sheet of paper, a ring felt onto the bedsheets beside Alec’s hand, silver and sturdy, the Lightwood sigil clearly visible under the lights. Magnus took the ring in his hand and examined it for a second before turning to the page that accompanied it. He did not have to read more than the first few words – _“Magnus, my love, by the time you read this, I will be gone”_ – to know that these were the last words Alec had intended to say to him. 

As his eyes scanned the words written in Alec’s neat script, his heart swelled and filled with even more love for the Shadowhunter, the man who had poured his heart and his love on the page in the hope that one day Magnus would read those words and understand. “ _I_ _t is your name I carry on my lips as I walk towards the void,”_ Alec had written, “… _if there is a life after this one, I will continue loving you in it as I have loved you in this life… I broke both our hearts…_ _It was the price Asmodeus exacted in exchange for what you need to be whole again.”_ With each word, Magnus squeezed the ring in his hand with even more force, wishing the ring to melt into his skin, to become an unremovable part of him. His eyes filled with even more tears and with each word, Alec’s love for him became even more tangible, more unquestionable and more certain. At that moment, Magnus felt that he was both the luckiest and the unluckiest human to have ever lived, for he was loved by this remarkable soul, a soul whose life force was now slowly fading right in front of his eyes. 

“Alexander,” he whispered once he finished reading the letter, fighting against the sobs that threatened to scape his throat, “you cannot leave me like this, you must not leave me. I forbid you from leaving me.”  

Suddenly and without warning, Alec gasped violently and pulled his hand away with surprising strength. Startled, Magnus looked up just in time to see Alec’s eyes open. What he saw in those eyes filled him with even more dread. The honey brown of his lover’s eyes was gone, replaced by black pupils so big that they seemed to have swallow all the white. The only remaining white part of Alec’s eyes was marked by thickening red lines. 

“Alexander!” he called. “It’s me, Alexander.” But Alec did not respond or show any sign of recognition. Instead, he began to violently thrash and turn in the bed, pulling against the respirator and the IV tube. The heart monitor began to beep at an increasing speed as Alec’s movement became even more violent. For a split second, Magnus thought that Alec was having a seizure, but when he looked into those black pupils, he realized that something else, a strange and malevolent force, was causing Alec’s sudden reaction. That force seemed to have imbued Alec’s body with extraordinary strength.    

“Jace, wake up! I need you!” Magnus called as he tried to stop Alec from pulling the respirator’s tube. Alec resisted with a strength that was inhuman even for a Nephilim. “Jace!” He yelled once again a split second before he felt Jace beside him. 

Jace climbed onto the bed and tried to restrain Alec with the weight of his own body. Meanwhile, Magnus cast spells to conjure magic shackles around Alec’s feet and wrists in order to immobilize him.   

“What that heck Magnus?!” Jace exclaimed, his voice strained from the effort of restraining Alec while avoiding getting head but by him. Alec’ strength surprised even him, and the jerkiness of his movements gave him the impression that a foreign force was the cause of Alec’s unexpected reaction. The strangeness of Alec’s movements and the sinister black and red in his eyes suggested to Jace that his brother was not really aware of his surroundings or in control of his actions. 

After a last jerky movement which Magnus corresponded with another restraining spell, Alec settled once again back on the bed, his eyes closing. However, he did not go back to the placid immobility in which he had been for the last several hours. His breathing now appeared more laborious, and his skin, which had been already very pale, was now ashen and almost blue. Even more concerning were the veins in Alec’s neck and arms which were rapidly turning bluish black, the color reaching for his face and chest with inexorable steadiness. A rasping noise originated from Alec’s chest, the sound that Magnus had learned to associate with the inevitability of death. Alec’s hands and feet continued to tremble slightly, as if a mysterious force was trying to take control of his muscles. 

“What is going on?” Jace asked, his tone a mixture of concern and panic. 

“We are almost out of time,” Magnus replied through shallow breaths. He was having difficulty seeing because his eyes were still overflowing with tears. He thought it was no possible that his heart could still beat that fast considering that it was in pieces. Alec was dying in front of his eyes and there was nothing he could do. He was losing his own reason for living and his mind could not conjure up a solution, not thread of hope, not a coherent idea. The panic that with superhuman effort he had been keeping at bay was now overtaking him and his mind was suddenly unable to formulate a clear thought. 

“Keep it together,” Magnus murmured to himself, as he took a step back from the bed and turned away from Alec’s tormented face. He needed to get a grip, he needed to gather his wits and think. There must be something he could still do, for he was no ready to give up; he simply could not. 

“What do we do Magnus?” Jace asked from where he now stood beside Alec’s bed, his voice full of anguish and what Magnus could only describe as terror. Magnus knew that Jace had trusted him, that when they had sworn to protect Alec’s angelic soul all those hours ago, Jace had trusted that Magnus would not let it come to that, that Magnus would not let it come to the point when they would have to let Alec die in order to save him. 

“Let me think,” Magnus replied. “There must still be something to do.” 

At that moment, Alec’s body shook once again, and his arms and feet feebly pulled against the magic restrains Magnus had conjured up. Magnus understood then that Alec was reaching the last stages of Eidolon poisoning, and that soon the disease would reach Alec’s heart and soul and destroy all that make him Alec, all that made him beautiful and good. They were almost out of time and if they were going to safe any part of Alec’s soul, they needed to act now. 

“You are out of ideas, aren’t you?” Jace asked. “Aren’t you?!” he repeated, more forcefully when Magnus failed to reply and continued to turn away from him. 

“ _It was the price Asmodeus exacted in exchange for what you need to be whole again.”_ Alec’s neatly written words suddenly materialized in Magnus’ mind. “It was the price Asmodeus exacted,” Magnus whispered to himself as a farfetched idea began to take form, an idea he would never consider if this was not already a hopeless situation, an idea that was likely to cost him dearly.    

After several moments in which Magnus remained with his back to Jace, the stoop posture of someone who carried hundreds of years on his shoulders, Magnus took a deep breath, straightened and run the back of his hand across his face, drying his tears. Even without seeing the change in his expression, Jace could tell that something had changed, that an idea had sprung into Magnus’ mind, that there was still one small sliver of hope fueling the warlock’s determination. 

“I have one more card to play,” Magnus stated turning towards Jace, his face a mixture of fear, sadness and determination. “You are not going to like it though,” he added. 

“What is it?” 

“I am going to summon my father and force him to cure Alec,” Magnus stated, the words full of resolve and stubbornness. “If you have any objections, or qualms about this, you can leave. Otherwise, please stay with Alec while I go get the stuff I need for the summoning. We are almost out of time.” 

“Do what you need to do” Jace stated, not a thread of hesitation in his voice. “We have come this far, what is a little more?” he added.

 

**I am sorry it took me this long. I have been travelling. Leave a comment to let me know what you think.**

 


	5. Suplication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We are out of time,” Magnus said, his voice coming as if from a grave. He forced an impassive expression onto his face, as with the back of his hand he dried his tears. “I will prepare the potion. You stay with Alec and prepare yourself; we are going to save his soul.”

Less than half an hour later, Magnus stood on the black pentagram he had drawn on the bedroom floor, on the corner assigned the spirit. In his hands he held an ancient spell book, its pages brittle and yellowed with age, and he was memorizing the incantation he would use to summon Asmodeus. The words were written in old black ink which with the passage of time had faded to a yellowish brown. He had never imagined using this spell when he committed it to the page all those centuries ago. In fact, he had come by it by pure chance, a strike of luck after a long night of drinking and games with old friends. The spell had belonged to the High Warlock of New Orleans. Magnus had won it in a wager during one of his visits to that city when it was still a French colony, a town surrounded by mosquito infected swamps and no bigger than what tourists today call the French Quarters. 

He did not remember now what the wager was, but the prize was a spell from the loser’s book. Whomever was victorious could choose a spell to copy into their own spell books and the writing was done with quill and ink that had been enchanted to erase the spell from the original owner’s book and memory as it got registered in the winner’s records. Magnus had not given much thought to the spell. At that time, he had not intended to ever contact his father, let alone compel him to do anything by force. He had simply taken the spell with a sense of superiority and smugness, more concerned with possessing it than with ever using it. Had he known that one day the spell could be the difference between life and death, perhaps he would have treasured it more. But then, he had been young and could not imagine ever loving someone enough to risk his father’s wrath.   

As Magnus memorized the incantation, Jace lighted black candles around the pentagram and on the side tables. He also closed the heavy curtains blocking even the faint glow of the stars. As candlelight replaced artificial lights, the room acquired the feeling of an eerily dungeon, its corners and walls almost invisible beyond the yellow glow of the candles. 

 “Asmodeus is not going to like being summed in this way,” Magnus stated more to himself than for Jace’s benefit. “Not only because it was me who vanished him back to hell just a few days ago, but also because this spell is very powerful. He will have no option but to answer its call. It is important that you stay out of sight, Jace,” he then added turning to the Shadowhunter. “It is better he does not see you.” 

Jace nodded and after taking a last look at his brother’s pale complexion, went to stand in a dark corner of the room, one hand gripping the wrist of the other on his back, the other hand inconspicuously wrapped around a seraph blade. Magnus instructed Jace to remain as silent as possible and not to intervene in the summoning or in any conversation between him and his father, no matter what happened, what was said, or what his father did. 

“Lucifer, star of the morning,” Magnus began once he checked his watch to make sure it was exactly one second pass three in the morning, the beginning of the devil’s hour. “Hear my prayer and the call of my blood.” With the sharp short knife that Magnus always carried with him, he made a swift cut across the palm of his left hand and squeezing his fist, let a few drops of blood fall into the pentagram, the drops hissing as they hit the magic circle. “Lucifer, God’s once most favourite son,” he went on, “hear the call of my blood, which is also yours. Grant me the strength to open the gates of hell and summon Asmodeus, my father, your son, to my presence.” Magnus extended his arms wide as if to encompass the whole pentagram. “Grant me the power to make Asmodeus answer me truthfully and faithfully. Lucifer, star of the morning, give me the strength to compel him to do my bidding. Lucifer, ruler of hell and all its creatures, hear my prayer and grant me your favour.” 

With every word, Magnus’ voice grew more powerful, stronger, and darker, and all indication of his tortured state of mind sank deep within him, leaving just the powerful warlock behind, his tall figure, his impassive face and his straight back. With every word, the confines of the pentagram also grew darker and foggier, as if a curtain of grey smoke had fallen around it, and the room grew colder, so cold, in fact, that Jace could see his own breath and feel goosebumps rising on his skin. 

Suddenly and without warning, the fog turned a dark shade of orange, as if a fire had been lighted within the pentagram, a fire that still burned cold. As a silhouette took shape within the flames, a tremendous force pushed against the invisible magic walls of the pentagram, and Magnus’ face contorted with the effort of containing whatever presence was taking form in front of his eyes. 

“How dare you summon me as if I was your servant?!!” came a deep and cold voice from within the demon trap, its tone not completely able to disguise the hate and rage it contained. “Who do you think you are?” 

“I am your son,” Magnus replied, his tone steady despite his racing heart and the effort it was taking him to keep Asmodeus confined. “Lucifer, your father, seems to think me worthy of the power to call upon you.” 

“And what made you think that I would respond?” Asmodeus asked, his figure becoming more and more solid with each passing second. 

“I would suspect that the fact that you are here, father, is answer enough,” Magnus replied, his voice cold and completely devoid of emotion. “The summoning spell I used forces you to answer and to do as I ask.” 

As Asmodeus became more and more solid, Magnus could see that he looked unusually dishevelled. His jacket was dusty and his hair, which Asmodeus always kept carefully styled, looked messy and in disarray. Magnus suspected that his father had not yet fully recovered from the powerful vanishing spell he had used to send him back to hell, but he did not care enough to take the time to enquire as to the reason for his state. Furthermore, he would not make the mistake of underestimating his father’s power or strength; for Asmodeus remained a powerful demon despite his appearance. 

“And what do you ask? What is it you want from me?” Asmodeus asked, his tone and demeanor acquiring an appearance of nonchalance that Magnus was sure was a façade. His father was here against his will; the summoning spell had made sure of it. 

“I want you to cure Alexander of Eidolon poisoning,” Magnus stated, not even trying to beat around the bushes. Neither him nor his father wanted to extend this encounter any longer than absolutely necessary, and Magnus knew that any pleasantries would be lost on his father. 

“Ha! Is that all?” Asmodeus replied with a mocking chuckle. For the first time and as if he had just noticed, he turned to look at the place where Alec laid immobile, his ragged breathing a clear indication of the gravity of his condition. 

“That is all,” Magnus replied curtly. “The sooner you do it, the sooner we can part ways once again.” 

Asmodeus brought the tips of his fingers together in front of his face in an gesture that would have resembled prayer, if it wasn’t for the fact that he kept his eyes fixed on Magnus and that his face had the expression of a parent that considered whether to indulge his mischievous child. After a moment in which he appeared to ponder Magnus’ request, Asmodeus took a deep breath, and his expression shifted to one of feigned regret. 

“I am sorry son,” he stated, his tone unable to disguise the fact that he was not at all sorry, “I am afraid I cannot do what you ask.” 

“By the power of the spell that brought you to me, I compel you,” Magnus said, his voice carrying even more force. He made a small gesture with his hands and the boundaries of the pentagram shrank a little, pushing against the invisible resistance of his father’s powers. 

“You can compel all you want,” Asmodeus interjected. “In fact, you can compel until the proverbial cows come home, my answer will still the same. I cannot do it because Eidolon demon pox is not something I can cure, not even if I wanted to, which, by the way, I don’t.” With the last few words, the demon let go of any pretense of concern. 

Extending his arms even wider and releasing a stream of red magic from his fingertips, Magnus pushed against the pentagram’s invisible boundaries, and the candles burned brighter, the magic energy squeezing Asmodeus within the demon trap. “You will not deny me demon,” he stated with even more force and darkness in his voice. 

“Son,” Asmodeus stated in a drawling voice, “you can restrain me within this trap until nothing but a sliver of me remains. My answer will still be the same. Anything you try will be futile because I cannot do what you ask, simple as that.” Asmodeus’ expression was a picture of casualness and dispassion, but Magnus knew that he was thoroughly enjoying the situation.   

“Asmodeus, prince of hell, by the power granted to me by Lucifer, your father, and by the magic of my blood, I oblige to do my bidding.” With a quick spell, Magnus opened the cut in his hand once again and let several drops drip onto the pentagram. He would bleed as much as was necessary, he will drain himself completely dry, if that would make Asmodeus comply. 

“Don’t waste your blood or your powers.” Asmodeus’ drawl was becoming even more pronounced with every word. “You know very well that the summoning you used also compels me to answer you truthfully. So, I truthfully tell you that I cannot cure your Nephilim boy of the pox. He will die from it, very soon and in the most horrendous way; there is nothing you or I, or that Nephilim with angelic blood standing in the corner, can do.” 

Magnus’s face seemed to crumple suddenly, the stoned expression he had kept until then suddenly falling as if it was a mask he could no longer hold to his face. He sighed at the same time that his stare lost some of the intensity with which he had fixed Asmodeus.  “I will give you anything you ask,” Magnus now pleaded, his voice losing some of its steadiness as he gave up all effort to disguise his desperation. “Name your price; I will pay it.” 

“Oh son, I told you that falling for a mortal would only cause you heartbreak.” Despite his attempt to appeared fatherly, Asmodeus could not keep the sarcasm form his voice. Magnus knew that Asmodeus had never and would never care for any of his children, not for him and not for any of the other warlocks he had sired in the thousands and thousands of years since creation. 

“I will give you anything you ask; just save him, please,” Magnus asked with a quivering voice, unable to disguise any longer his despair. 

“I cannot,” Asmodeus replied. “And, there is nothing you can give me that would be better than seeing you beg for the Nephilim’s life. That by itself is worth having you forced me here. I cannot lie to you, the summoning spell does not allow me to, so you know I am telling the truth.” 

“Please father,” Magnus begged, his voice growing smaller and his posture shrinking under the weight of his desperation.

Jace, who had remained silent and immobile throughout this exchange, began to fear that, weakened by his own despair, Magnus would lose control of the demon trap. He gripped the seraph blade even more firmly, in preparation for a possible confrontation with a rogue greater demon. As he suspected, a second later, he saw the confines of the demon trap expand an inch or two as Asmodeus took advantage of Magnus’ growing weakness to push with even more force against Magnus’ powers. Feeling the growing resistance, Magnus increased the amount of magic emanating from his fingers and pushed with more strength against the demon’s powers. For a moment or two, Jace witnessed the struggle of wills, as father and son faced one another, Asmodeus’ eyes shining with increasing power, his figure growing bigger and more solid, his smile becoming even more mocking. Jace conjured up the name of an angel ready to use it to bring his seraph blade to life, but with a small imperceptible shake of his head, Magnus told him to remain where he was.   

“I tell you what,” Asmodeus stated, after a few moments of silent struggle and perhaps realizing that the summoning spell would prevent him from overcoming Magnus’ powers. “I will let you say goodbye to the boy. It is within my power to stave off the progress of the pox for a few minutes. That much I will do in exchange for you letting me off this accursed trap and the promise that you will never summon me again.” Without waiting for a reply, Asmodeus made a small gesture with his hand, as if he was waving away a perky insect. Suddenly, the rasping breathing sound coming from Alec changed and a split second later, he coughed. Magnus swiftly looked towards the bed and saw that Asmodeus had with that gesture removed the respirator tube from Alec’s throat and that the Shadowhunter was now struggling to breathe on his own. 

“What did you do?!” Magnus asked turning back to his father, his eyes meeting the amused expression of the demon. As anger won over despair, Magnus’s voice lost the sadness of moments before, and he straightened up once again, the magic flowing from him turning a deep and almost black red. 

“You don’t have much time,” Asmodeus said casually, apparently ignoring the pressure that Magnus’ magic was exerting on the increasingly confining trap. “He is really at the end of his tether. He will soon no longer be the boy you know and love, and you will have no other choice but to kill him. If you want to say a proper goodbye, you better let me go.” He gave one more powerful push against the pentagram’s confines and Magnus had to take a step back, fighting now with all his strength against his father’s powers. 

Suddenly, the red flames from within which his father had materialized began to burn even brighter, and a wind blew within the pentagram threatening to extinguish the candles and overpowering Magnus. 

“Stupid boy,” Asmodeus said, his tone no longer drawling, his expression no longer mocking. “You may have compelled me to come here, but you cannot hold me forever. The trap is only as powerful as the strength of your magic and the power of your will and you know you are losing both. I will soon be free and then you will truly know your father’s wrath.” 

Unwilling to give up yet, and still hoping against hope to force his father to cure Alec, Magnus pushed against the trap, committing more and more of his powers to the endeavour despite the fact that he could feel that he was weakening fast. He was about to lose this battle; he knew but could not accept it. His father was his last hope, there was nothing else he could do. 

“Ma-Magnug,” a faint and gasping voice suddenly irrupted in his concentration, Alec’s voice, weak and raspy calling to him from the bed. 

He allowed himself one brief glance in the direction of his lover, one glance that for a second fueled even more a determination that was quickly turning into hopeless stubbornness. Taking advantage once again of Magnus’ brief lapse in concentration, Asmodeus made another hand gesture that forced Magnus to take one more step back as he was hit with a new rush of demonic power. 

Magnus remained determined to resist his father, but suddenly a gentle hand on his shoulder called his attention.  “Let him go Magnus,” Jace softly spoke from behind him, his hand on Magnus’ shoulder strong but also gentle. “He is not worth it. Let him go, we will find another way.” 

Magnus turned once again to look at Alec, the Shadowhunter’s eyes barely open but still looking back at him. With a resigned sigh, Magnus made a last but powerful gesture with his arms, a gesture meant to both push and close. At that moment, the candles burned even brighter as the demon trap shrank and then collapsed onto itself sending Asmodeus back to hell, his furious expression the last thing Magnus saw before he was swallowed once again, the insulting stench of sulfur and singed hair the only remnants of the demons trap. 

Even before the last sparkles of magic died down, Magnus turned and rushed towards Alec’s bedside, kneeling beside him and taking his hand in his. “Alexander,” he said, his voice desperate and full of agony, “I am here.” 

Jace joined them at the other side of the bed, his hand grasping his side, the pain on the parabatai rune that linked him to his brother throbbing even more than it had ever since Alec was bitten by that demon. “Hey brother,” he said, putting his hand in Alec’s head, desperate to make sure that his brother was still his brother. 

“Jace,” Alec responded, his voice breathy, his eyes shifting momentarily from Magnus to his brother. “Jonathan, what happened to Jonathan?” 

“Don’t worry about that now,” Jace replied, “save your strength.” 

Alec tried to say something else, but a bout of coughing prevented him from speaking. “Water,” he whispered as he tried to catch his breath. 

Magnus made to stand up, but Jace stopped him with a small gesture. “I’ll get it,” he said and turning limped out of the room, leaving Magnus alone with Alec. 

“You are here,” Alec said, turning the full force of his eyes on Magnus, trying to disguise the pain that threatened to overcome him. 

“Of course, I am here,” Magnus replied as he brought Alec’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “I could never be anywhere else.” Tears flowed down his cheeks and onto the bed, and Magnus did not bother to disguise them. 

“Don’t cry,” Alec whispered, between rasping breaths. “You are too beautiful to cry.” 

“Alexander, I thought I had lost you.” 

Jace returned just then and, helping Alec lift his head, brought a glass to his lips. Alec swallowed a couple of times before resting his head back once again, the effort of lifting his head and drinking requiring almost all the strength he could master. He took a rasping breath and looked at Jace. “I need a moment alone with Magnus,” he said, gasps of pains causing him to pause after each word, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead. 

“Of course,” Jace replied, a sad smile lifting the corners of his lips, a smile that failed to reach his tortured eyes. “I will be right outside.” Jace turned once again and slowly walked out of the room, the pain on his side making it harder and harder to move. 

“I am dying, Magnus,” Alec said turning once again to Magnus, looking at him with an expression of pure and unadulterated love and compassion. 

“I will find a cure, Alexander, I promise.” Magnus kissed his hand once again, even more desperately than before. “I will not let you die. You cannot leave me.” 

“Oh Magnus, my love.” Alec’s voice was no louder than a whisper and it came in rasping gasps of pain. “I was bitten by an Eidolon; I can feel its poison in me. It feels like worms crawling under my skin and eating at my insides. Soon, I will no longer be me,” he added with another gasp. 

“I won’t let the poison advance,” Magnus said, his tone stubborn and desperate. He rested his hand against Alec’s cheek and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. “You cannot to give up, Alexander. I cannot live without you.” The last words came out in a sob, and Alec lifted his other hand and stroke Magnus’ hair. 

“It is winning, Magnus; I can feel the poison consuming my soul, changing me. You cannot let that happen. I don’t want to hurt you or Jace. Please, don’t let me become a monster, help me die while I am still myself.” With what seemed to be a superhuman effort, Alec pulled Magnus to him, their lips joining in a kiss that was full of more love and sorrow than either of them thought possible.

“I will not let you die,” Magnus whispered after a moment, his forehead resting against Alec’s, his voice filled with the desperation of a drowning man.

“You have to let me go, Magnus. I cannot hold on much longer. You already did all you could, you have to help me die or my soul will be lost forever. I hate to ask this of you, my love, my soul, my whole world, but you are the only one who can give me a peaceful death.” 

“No, Alexander, please don’t ask me that. I cannot.” Magnus felt like a fist had taken hold of his heart and it was squeezing it with merciless strength. “I can’t,” he repeated, “I cannot let you go. You were going to ask me to marry you; you cannot leave me now.” 

“Oh Magnus,” Alec gasped. “Come, lie with me.” 

Magnus climbed onto the bed beside Alec, his whole body embracing the Shadowhunter, the feel of him familiar and comforting. Alec pulled him closer with feeble strength and Magnus rested his head on Alec’s shoulder inhaling the familiar scent of his lover. 

“I love you,” Magnus whispered in Alec’s ear. “I love you with a force I never thought I was capable of.” 

“And I love you, Magnus.” A sound of profound pain, a mixture of a gasp and a whimper, escaped from deep within Alec. Snapping his fingers, Magnus called on soothing magic which he directed towards Alec’s chest. After a moment, Alec sighed, the pain giving him a momentary reprieve. 

“Kiss me,” Alec whispered turning to Magnus, and Magnus did as his lover asked, the kiss full of passion, desperation and longing. He entangled his fingers in Alec’s messy hair, the warmth of Alec’s skin penetrating the barrier of clothing and blankets. Alec was burning up, Magnus knew it, the fever another sign of the battle his organism was waging. 

A new ripple of pain interrupted their kiss and shutting his eyes, Alec laid his head back on the pillow, and squeezed Magnus’ hand. Magnus had never felt more powerless and useless before in his life. His magic had no effect on Alec’s increasing pain, no matter how much of it he used. 

“Mag-Magnus,” Alec gasped. “Please, I cannot hold on much longer. I can’t…” he tried to continue but he seemed to run out of air. 

“Alexander, please...” 

“I know you love me,” Alec said once he could catch his breath once again. “so, don’t let me become a monster. Promise me. Promise me,” he insisted when Magnus did not reply, the force of his eyes probing into Magnus, reaching his very soul. 

“I promise,” Magnus finally said after a pause in which he tried to push down the sobs that threatened to drown his voice forever. 

“I love you,” Alec whispered, and his eyes now conveyed feelings that his words could not capture. “You are everything to me, never doubt that.” Alec then rested his head on the pillow once again and, losing his battle to remain conscious, closed his eyes, the rasping sound in his chest becoming stronger and more ragged with every breath. 

“Alexander,” Magnus said with a sob. “Please Alexander, please...” He did not know what he was asking Alec to do, or whether he was speaking to Alec or pleading with some unknown deity that so far had refused to respond. “Please, please,” he kept repeating as he laid beside Alec, his sobs and the struggling sound of Alec’s breathing mixing together. 

He did not know how long he laid there, his arms wrapped around Alec, his nose resting on the spot at the base of Alec’s neck, the scent of the Shadowhunter’s skin invading Magnus’s senses. Magnus prayed for time to stop, so he could have one more second of Alec’s warmth, so he could commit to memory the scent of Alec, the feel of his skin, the sensation of his long fingers interlaced with his. 

Minutes or hours later, Magnus did not know, he heard Jace’s steps as he limped back into the room. He opened his eyes and met Jace’s pained expression, the young Shadowhunter’s angelic face lined with the tears that he too had been unable to contain. Knowing that there was nothing left to be done except for fulfilling the promises he had made to Alec and his brother, Magnus took a deep quivering breath and with the exhausted movements of a man at end of his strength, he forced himself to get up from the bed, the feel of Alec’s warm body against his own permanently edged in his memory. 

“We are out of time,” he said, his voice coming as if from a grave. He forced an impassive expression onto his face, as with the back of his hand he dried his tears. “I will prepare the potion. You stay with Alec and prepare yourself; we are going to save his soul.”

 


	6. A Cruel Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scene had a surreal quality, as if an artist had unwittingly stumbled on two sleeping angels and his gifted hands had managed to capture their essence in a glorious painting. Jace’s golden hair and sun-kissed face had a completely unguarded expression, the face of a child, so young that it still betrayed a disarming air of innocence. Alec’s silvery glow was in shadow, his black hair in disarray, his moon white skin a contrast to his brother’s golden one. The two brothers were too sides of the same coin, gold and silver, white and blue, like sky and clouds in a perfect summer day. Beautiful, Magnus thought, the word somehow inadequate.

“Magnus wait,” Jace said and he grabbed Magnus by arm, stopping him from leaving the room. 

Magnus looked back at him and as their eyes met, they each saw the torment and desperation that plagued the other’s soul, the panic that gripped their insides and the fear at the almost certain loss of someone fundamental to their sanity and existence. The bag under Jace’s eyes told Magnus that Alec’s brother was suffering as much as he was, if not more. Hours of sleepless waiting, the pain that Alec was surely and involuntarily sharing through the parabatai bond that linked them, and the unsuccessful attempt to secure Asmodeus’ help, was taking a heavy toll on Jace. His normally bright eyes, angelic face and playful expression had been replaced by a face that seemed to have aged in just days, and he carried the physical effects of the parabatai bond as a heavy burden that weighted him down and bent his back. 

Jace, in turn, saw in Magnus’ cat eyes a sorrow so deep that it seemed like a black hole that swallowed all light. In the short time he had known Magnus, Jace had grown accustomed to the warlock’s flamboyant style, sassy come-backs and bigger-than-life personality. He could see none of that now on Magnus’ face, or on his slow and sombre movements. He knew warlocks did not age; their bodies did not reflect the passage of time. Yet, if anyone had asked him at that moment, he would have said that Magnus looked like a man that had witnessed, not hundreds, but thousands of years of sorrow and loss. 

In that moment in which Jace and Magnus looked at each other, they both knew that neither of them would ever be the same if they lost Alec. They would both carry forever the burden and the guilt of not having been able to save him. The difference was that forever meant something for Magnus that Jace could never understand.    

 “How long does Alec have?” Jace asked breaking the momentary silence. 

“No long,” Magnus replied. “The longer it takes me to prepare the potion, the more potent it will have to be. I tried Jace, I tried, but…” Magnus voice quivered and broke, and unwilling to let the sob that had lodged itself in his throat escape, he lifted his fist to his mouth and bit on it hard. 

“I might have an idea,” Jace replied, his tone cautious because he did not dare hope. “It just occurred to me that Asmodeus is not the only game in town.” 

“What do you mean?” Magnus asked. “Are you suggesting we summon another demon?” 

“Not a demon,” Jace said, his voice growing a little smaller as if he was about to propose something forbidden. “An angel,” he added after a pause. The idea had occurred to him as he sat on the floor outside Alec’s room, his back against the wall, his hand gripping his side, the pain making it almost impossible to take a deep breath. As he heard Alec and Magnus’ muffled murmurs, Jace had run the exchange between Magnus and Asmodeus in his mind, something nagging at him, something he tried hard to pin down. Asmodeus had said that no one could do anything for Alec, not him, not Magnus and not even Jace with his angelic blood. _But what if Asmodeus was wrong?_ Jace thought. _What if there was something in his angelic blood that could help Alec?_ _Asmodeus might not be able to cure him, but perhaps an angel could_.    

“An angel?” Magnus now asked, his tone doubtful. “Jace, angels are almost impossible to summon. You better than anyone knows that. Even if we had the mortal cup and the sword, which we don’t, and we were able to take Alec to Lake Lyn, there is no way that Raziel will appear after the disaster that was Valentine.” 

“I am not talking about Raziel,” Jace argued, his voice acquiring more and more conviction as the idea solidified in his mind. 

“Who then?” 

“I don’t know. How about Ananiel or Javan?” replied Jace mentioning the first names that popped into his head. He run his hand through his hair in a gesture that Magnus had learned to recognize as something Jace did every time that he was about to do something reckless. “They are not archangels. They may be easier to summon.” 

“Angels are terribly unpredictable, even more than demons,” Magnus explained. “And, may I remind you that I am the son of a prince of hell? I am an abomination as some of your people always take pains to remind me. I don’t have that kind of power, no one does.” 

“The blood of an angel runs through my veins,” Jace retorted. “That has to count for something. Perhaps my blood can serve as a connection. Come on Magnus, we cannot leave any stone unturned. We owe it to Alec to try.” Jace’s last words came out as a plea. 

Magnus turned towards the window and opening the curtains saw that the night outside was at its darkest, the sky an inky black. The sun did not yet shine its first feeble rays on this part of the world, and the only sound interrupting the dark silence was the faint sound of the ocean.  He run a thumb along the lines of his mouth as he deeply contemplated Jace’s words, the room, the sound of the ocean, and even Jace’s fidgeting behind him, all fainting as he pondered the Shadowhunter’s implausible idea. 

Against his better judgement, all kinds of possibilities began to run through Magnus’ head as the last tiny sliver of hope still burning within him refused to die. _Could it be possible?_ He thought, _and what would it take to summon an angel_? He knew the idea was farfetched, let alone risky, but hadn’t they crossed the line between sanity and craziness a long time ago? Magnus thought that if there was a remote possibility of summoning an angel, there was only one person in the whole world who might know how, a person who knew more of the Nephilim’s secrets than anyone else. The only problem was that that person had a lot invested in never coming anywhere near the Shadow world or the Nephilim. 

“You know that if the Clave ever finds out, you will be de-runed for even contemplating this,” Magnus said turning to Jace, his voice unable to disguise the fact that, against his own better judgement, he was beginning to see the merit in Jace’s proposal. “And, if by some miracle, we succeed and the Clave finds out that Alec was part of it, he will also be in deep trouble.” Magnus did not care what happened to him. He could very well die in the attempt; angels were unlikely to take kindly to the son of demon summoning them. 

“But, can it be done?” Jace asked obviously unconcerned about the consequences.

“I honestly don’t know, Jace,” Magnus replied. “I can think of only one person who might – and that is a big might – have any information about angel summoning. I would need to speak to them privately though; they are very secretive, especially when it comes to the Nephilim. I will reach out. In the meantime,” he added as he walked towards the bed and placed a hand on Alec’s forehead, gauging the fever, and examining the dark black lines that were slowly but surely replacing the veins in the Shadowhunter’s neck and face, “I will prepare a fortifying potion for Alec, see if I can delay the pox’s progress a bit longer.” 

“Okay,” Jace said, his voice suddenly less grief-stricken. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Stay here, I will also make a potion for you to soothe the pain. If my contact replies, I will speak to them in the other room; do not show yourself to them under any circumstance. They will not take kindly to a Shadowhunter knowing they are helping us.” 

Magnus had met Lee Stuart when he had still gone by the name of Leandra Aldertree, prominent daughter of the Aldertree family, one of Idris’ oldest and most prominent families. Leandra had been young and pretty in a mousy kind of way when Magnus had first met her, a timid girl barely out of puberty, with long brown hair and intense green eyes that could barely disguise the painful secret she carried within. Magnus’s first memory of Leandra was of her painful shyness, the intense blushing that rose to her cheeks and the stutter that made it almost impossible for her to string a coherent answer to his question. Yet Magnus had liked her; there had been something about the young woman that betrayed great intelligence, something that made Magnus think of a chrysalis hiding a beautiful butterfly. Perhaps that was the reason that Magnus had told her that if she ever needed help, she had only to call him. 

When a few years later, Leandra graduated from the Idris Academy and left for her year of travelling, she had finally taken him at his word. Magnus helped her fake her own death, so like a phoenix from ashes, Lee Stuart could be born. He then helped Lee reach a group of friendly warlocks and human doctors who helped him complete his journey of transformation. The next time Magnus had seen Lee, he had marveled at how his old friend had finally broken free of his pupa and become the person he had meant to be all along: handsome, outgoing, articulate and extremely intelligent.   

They seldomly saw each other over the years after Lee’s rebirth. Lee wanted as little to do as possible with the Shadow world and he refused to have any contact with the Nephilim.  The last time Magnus saw him, he had recently taken a job as a history professor at a prestigious college and had a fiancé, his years in the ranks of the Shadowhunters all but forgotten. That had been years ago, and if Magnus’ memory was accurate, Lee was now in his early forties, likely married and perhaps with children of his own. 

What nobody, except Magnus, knew was that when Lee left his old life behind, he carried some very valuable and very secret manuscripts that had belonged to the Aldertrees, documents that everybody thought lost forever in the storm that swallowed the small plane in which Leandra Aldertree was lost while on a mission to Tierra del Fuego. When Magnus had asked him why he had risked taking the manuscripts, Lee had replied that he could not bear leaving such precious records of the Nephilim’s connection to the divine in the hands of his unscrupulous siblings. Magnus suspected that over the years Lee had added to his collection and knew that his friend remained interested in obscured manuscripts dealing with angelic powers. Now as he pressed the end call button on his cell phone, Lee’s warnings still ringing in his ear, Magnus was glad he had been right. 

He looked out the window and saw that daylight had already rob them of the opportunity to try summoning an angel that day. The sun had risen, and several surfers were already on their way to catch the first morning waves.  It had taken Magnus too long to locate Lee and too long for Lee to reply, and their chance had passed them by. Under different circumstances, they could wait until the next morning, but Alec was already living off borrowed time; he did not have another twenty-four hours. 

Magnus was consulting his watch a minute later, making some quick calculation and trying to figure out their next steps when his phone vibrated in his pocket. When he gazed at the screen, a single image showed up, the image of what looked like an ancient parchment scroll, a signal that Lee was about to come through. Magnus put the phone down and began to wave his arms in the air, calling on the magic forces needed to bend space, so Lee could send through the portal the manuscript he had promised. A second later, Magnus reached with his magic, grabbed the manuscript and brought it across the distance that separated him from his friend, and as soon as he had it in his hand, he sent Lee a text of his own thanking him and promising to return the scroll to him intact and as soon as he was done with it. As he had expected, Lee did not reply. 

Magnus looked down at the scroll and saw a note carefully pined to the thick red ribbon that kept the scroll from unrolling. There his friend had written a short note reminding Magnus of the instructions he had given him over the phone, warning him once again not to open the scroll himself, and asking him to keep his involvement out of the whole affair. “We are now even my friend. Good luck,” were Lee’s parting words. 

Magnus looked at the list Lee had provided him, the list of things they would need for the summoning, and then consulted his watch once again, counting the hours with the fingers of one hand while hoping that his powers would not fail him, that his strength would hold a little longer. 

“Come on Jace, we have to move,” Magnus stated as he opened the door to the bedroom, a rush of adrenaline fueling his movements and disguising his exhaustion. He stopped just inside the door startled by the scene before him. Likely reaching a point beyond exhaustion, his pain dulled as a result of the soothing tonic Magnus had given him, Jace had curled up beside Alec, his sleeping face illuminated by the morning light filtering through the partially drawn curtains. The scene had a surreal quality, as if an artist had unwittingly stumbled on two sleeping angels and his gifted hands had managed to capture their essence in a glorious painting. Jace’s golden hair and sun-kissed face had a completely unguarded expression, the face of a child, so young that it still betrayed a disarming air of innocence. Alec’s silvery glow was in shadow, his black hair in disarray, his moon white skin a contrast to his brother’s golden one. The two brothers were too sides of the same coin, gold and silver, white and blue, like sky and clouds in a perfect summer day. _Beautiful,_ Magnus thought, the word somehow inadequate. 

Alec was breathing with relative ease at the moment. He no longer needed the respirator thanks to Asmodeus’ small kindness and Magnus’ powerful potions and spells. The only signs that things were not as they should be were the constant beeping of the heart monitor, the IV tube attached to his arm, the thin sheen of sweat covering Alec’s forehead and the dark blue lines slowly expanding towards his face and chest in crisscrossed patterns. Yet, despite all of that, Magnus thought that Alec was the more beautiful of the two brothers, his face a magnet that drew Magnus’ gaze away from anyone and anything else in any room. He had contemplated Alec’s sleeping face so many times, sometimes bathed by moonlight, others shining in the morning sun. He had run his fingers through his black smooth hair countless times, sometimes just because; other times while overcome with passion. He had kissed those lips with the thirst of a dying man as well as with a tenderness borne of love and comfortable intimacy. He had seen Alec’s face smile, frown, gasp with pleasure, and he knew he would never wish for anything else ever again, if he could just have a chance to see that face come alive once more, and see those eyes open and turn the full power of their stare on Magnus. 

“Wake up Jace, we have to go,” he whispered once he managed to peel his eyes from his lover’s lovely face. He gently shook the Shadowhunter awake. Jace opened his eyes and rubbed them with the back of his hand, the gesture accentuating his youth even more. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep. 

“Back in time,” Magnus replied. “We need to go to a place where the sun has not risen yet,” he added in response to Jace’s puzzle expression. “If my calculations are correct, we should go to Europe. The French Alps, I think; that would put us close to Idris without alerting them of our location and give us sufficient time to get everything we need before daybreak.” He consulted his watch one more time.   

“Are you strong enough to move the whole room again?” Jace asked getting out of bed and looking around the room, to the mix of styles and features to which he had surprisingly grown accustomed over the last long hours. 

“Not the whole room. I am afraid I don’t have the strength to do that again so soon,” Magnus replied. He was moving about the room, gathering books and small jars containing unknown substances and dropping them in his leather bag together with the scroll Lee had sent them. Jace imitated him, gathering his jacket and seraph blades. “We will go by portal,” Magnus added as he came to stand at Alec’s bedside. Snapping his fingers, he projected a stream of magic directly into the Shadowhunter’s heart. “I think Alexander can handle that. We can forego the equipment. If we are unsuccessful, it will be useless anyways.” 

“You do know where we are going, right?” Jace asked twenty minutes later as they stood by the entrance to the portal, an unconscious Alec leaning heavily against his side, Jace’s arm tightly wrapped around his brother’s waist. “I don’t fancy getting lost in limbo.” 

“I have been there before,” Magnus replied as he approached and wrapped Alec’s arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own arm around Alec’s waist, relieving Jace of some of the burden. Alec’s breathing was coming in rasping sounds once again, a sign that the respite granted by Asmodeus would soon be running out. 

Less than a minute later, they emerged onto a big and airy room illuminated only by the already fainting lights of the portal and the full moon shining through the floor to ceiling windows that lined two out of the four walls. Together, they laid Alec on a long indigo blue sectional sofa that faced the windows. With swift and certain movements, Magnus reached for a remote control on a side table and pushed a few buttons in quick succession. White electronic blinds began to descend covering the windows and blocking them from any peering eyes that might be lurking outside, and some of the side lamps came on, along with strategically placed spot lights on the ceiling. Magnus then grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa and covered Alec with it, his movements gentle and attentive. 

Jace scanned the room, taking in the place and assessing their new situation. The place was big and elegantly decorated, the indigo blue walls that run along two sides of the room were peppered with works of art, and the side wooden tables showcased fine ceramics, glass jars, indoor plants and metal art pieces. Two stuffed butter yellow armchairs big enough to fit two people in each faced the sectional sofa on which Alec laid, and between them, books rested in artful disarray on a honey colored wooden side table. A big and square coffee table rested on a thick yellow and light blue rug and bellowed it hardwood floors glimmered golden under the lights. A two-sided fireplace partially divided the sitting area from a modern kitchen, its chimney decorated in a stylish combination of wood and grey bricks. A telescope on a tripod strategically stood by the window, its eye gazing towards a point in the dark sky.     

The front of the room was almost entirely made of wooden framed windows that directed the eye towards a landscape that at the moment was in complete darkness. At the back of the room, a set of French doors led to what Jace guessed were other rooms, bedrooms and bathrooms. 

“This chalet is part of the local inn,” Magnus said in reply to Jace’s unspoken question. “Alec and I spent a weekend here a few months ago. Don’t worry, I have enchanted the innkeepers to believe that we have a reservation and that we were simply arriving late. Do you remember this place Alexander?” he then whispered looking at Alec, his tone wistful. With gentle fingers he brushed the hair away from Alec’s forehead so he could plant a kiss there. “We had a good time here, didn’t we? You made waffles and we ate them on this sofa. We stayed all morning in our pajamas, and at night we watched the stars through the telescope. Do you remember?” 

Feeling like an intruder, Jace turned and quietly walked past the fireplace and towards the kitchen that run along one side of the room. He was not looking for anything in particular; he was certainly no hungry. Rather, he felt he should give Magnus a moment alone with Alec, a moment in which he could be vulnerable and loving without having to put up a front for Jace. He knew, of course, that Magnus and Alec shared many moments of tenderness. A few times he had seen them come swiftly apart when he unsuspectedly walked into Alec’s office when Magnus was visiting. His brother always kept a serious façade and while Magnus was flamboyant, glamorous and completely unashamed of his identity, neither of them ever expressed affection openly in public. Yet, Jace suspected that behind his quiet and proper exterior, Alec was a tender and demonstrative lover. Now as he saw Magnus tend to his brother, kiss him on his forehead and on his lips and run a gentle hand along his cheek, he wished Alec would just wake up even if to embarrassingly look in Jace’s direction. 

“I need to get a few things for the summoning,” Magnus said when he joined Jace a few moments later. With the clattering sound of glass bottles and the heavy thud of books, he dumped his bag on the kitchen counter. “Get something to eat, you will need your strength,” he added as he dug a list from the bag. “I will be in the other room getting the things we need.” Jace watched him as he walked out, checking his phone as he went, and thought that he saw a new determination on the warlock’s step. 

A few hours later and having moved some of the furniture aside, Jace and Magnus stood in the center of the room between the windows and the sofa where Alec laid. The light outside rapidly getting lighter as the sun was slowly making its way towards this part of the world. It would soon peek over the alps, which shone increasingly brightly and majestic in the early light of dawn, their white peaks gleaming against the cloudless blue. “Are you sure you understand what you have to do?” Magnus asked for what was likely the tenth time in the last hour. “You must follow the instructions carefully because we won’t have another chance at this.” 

“Magnus, I understand,” Jace replied, his tone a combination of annoyance and gentleness. Jace knew that Magnus was nervous, that he felt helpless because he was not supposed to intervene in the summoning ritual. It was all up to Jace; Jace would have to stand alone and recite the incantation that would hopefully reach the ears of an angel. 

The instructions had been simple and clear, yet also complex and exacting in their simplicity. It had taken Magnus some effort and not a small amount of magic, but he had secured all that was needed: purple and white candles made with the purest of bee waxes by monks at Saint Anthony’s Monastery in Egypt, the oldest monastery in the world; frankincense from the Arabian Peninsula’s most ancient and sacred of trees; myrrh extracted from thorny bushes under an eclipsed sun in Somalia; and ancient gold. The last ingredient had been the easiest to secure for Jace’s family ring was made of such a metal. Lee had instructed Magnus not to touch any of the ingredients unless he wore gloves because his demonic blood was likely to contaminate them. Thus, under Magnus’ instruction and watchful eyes, Jace had placed the candles in a circle, alternating purple and white. He had then lightened them with long wooden matches. After that, he had poured myrrh and frankincense oils on handmade ceramic dishes and together with the gold, he had placed them inside the illuminated circle.    

The instructions, which Magnus read from a piece of paper, indicated that the summoning ceremony had to be performed exactly as the first sunrays shone over the mountains. Jace was to sit in the center of the circle and hold the offerings in his hands as he recited the sacred incantation. Magnus would have to stand at the back of the room as far away from the light as possible, remain still and speak only if spoken to. He would not be able to read or see the summoning spell that was written on the scroll Lee sent. Lee had been very clear about that. His eyes could not touch the sacred and divine words, and if he tried, the summoning spell would disappear from the page. “You have only one chance,” Lee had said. “Once the spell is used, the words disappear from the scroll and won’t be visible again for another hundred years. It is very important the Nephilim gets it right the first time.” 

As the moment of the summoning rapidly approached, Magnus patted Jace on the arm in a gesture meant to convey encouragement and trust and after glancing towards Alec’s prostrated figure one last time, he went to stand with his back against the back wall, in the darkest corner of the room. 

Jace took a last look first at Alec and then at Magnus before turning towards the windows and sitting cross legged on the floor in the middle of the circle of candles. Using a sharp knife, he made a small cut on his thumb and pressed it against the ceramic sigil that sealed the red ribbon around the scroll. Recognizing angelic blood, the sigil gave way with what sounded like a faint sigh and the scroll unrolled, revealing words written in an ancient language that at first Jace did not recognize. He experienced a moment of panic and was tempted to call for Magnus’ help. But, when he looked at the words again, they inexplicably began to make sense, as if by simply reading them, the words had retrieved the language from deep inside Jace’s mind, from a place he held knowledge he did not know he possessed. As the incantation became legible, Jace began to read it quickly but carefully, committing it to memory, the words fainting and disappearing as Jace run his eyes across the scroll. Once the words were completely gone, Jace set the blank scroll aside and taking the offerings, closed his eyes and began to quietly recite the incantation, the beating of his heart in his chest the only sound penetrating his concentration, the beats punctuating each word. 

At that moment, Jace let go of all other distractions and committed his whole being to the task of calling on any angel that might be listening. Even the rasping sound of Alec’s agonal breathing became distant as he concentrated his whole body, mind and soul to the task of repeating the words he hoped would summon the divine assistance their so desperately needed. As he chanted the words, his mind cleared of all other thoughts except for the incantation and the feel of the first rays of sun on his face. 

From his dark corner, Magnus observed as Jace carefully performed each step of the summoning. He did not dare look at the scroll once Jace set it aside and suspected that even if he had, he would not have been able to make sense of what was written there. For as soon as he took the offerings, Jace began to chant in a language that Magnus did not recognize. As the sun shone its golden rays on Jace’s already golden hair and face, Magnus thought that now more than ever, Jace looked like an angel, and angel with an aura of gold and yellow. For a few minutes, Jace sat, quietly reciting the incantation as the sun slowly made its way over the mountains. When it finally cleared the peaks, Jace suddenly went silent and his back straightened in a posture that was almost unnatural for him. He then turned his face from one side of the room to the other as if scanning the place and, placing the offerings on the floor, stood up in a sinewy and effortless movement that seemed unnatural even for a Nephilim. 

“Who calls upon the power of angels?” Jace finally spoke, his voice clear and powerful, his tone familiar and strange at the same time. He slowly turned and searched the room until his eyes found Magnus, and what Magnus saw on those eyes sent a chill down his spine. Jace’s eyes seemed to have suddenly turned to gold, a gold so brilliant that it had the power of illuminating even the dark corner in which Magnus stood. “Speak,” Jace ordered, “state the reason for your summoning.” 

With shaking legs, Magnus pushed away from the wall and took a step into the light. He did not remember ever being so scared in his whole life. For he knew that the young man standing in front of him was no longer Jace, that some other being had taken over the Nephilim, a being so powerful that it seemed to attract all the light and the air in the room. 

“Speak, why did you call upon me?” the being speaking in Jace’s voice demanded once again. 

“How may I address you my lord?” Magnus asked by way of an answer, his voice sounding unusually feeble. He had not counted on Jace not being able to state their case, and he was sure he was not the best person to speak to an angel. 

“The ancients called me Zadkiel,” the angel replied. 

_The angel of mercy,_ thought Magnus, as he mentally run through the list of angels he knew. “I apologize, my lord Zadkiel, for summoning you, but we require your favor.” 

“I do not believe you are my subject, demon son,” Zadkiel replied, his tone devoid of all emotion despite the words.    

“But these two Nephilim are,” Magnus replied taking another cautious step towards the center of the room. “And this one desperately needs your help,” he added gesturing towards Alec, being careful not to take his eyes off Zadkiel. 

“Why should I help him or you? You are the son of my nemesis and the natural enemy of the Nephilim, why do you wish to intercede on behalf of the boy.” Zadkiel was yet to acknowledge Alec’s presence or the sounds of his ragged breathing. 

“Because he, Alexander, is a faithful servant of the Nephilim,” Magnus replied, “an exemplary son of the angel, good and generous, a soul incapable of fault or vanity. He is a leader among his people, and his people need him in the war against Jonathan Morgenstern.” 

As if mildly curious, Zadkiel looked in Alec’s direction, yet his face showed no major concern. “It is a strange favor you ask, demon son, especially coming from you. Wouldn’t you prefer that the Nephilim dies from demon poisoning? Aren’t the Nephilim the enemy of Lilith’s Children?” 

“He is not my enemy, my lord,” Magnus replied, his voice certain. “I love this Nephilim with all my heart and all my soul, and he loves me too, and because of that love, I am a better man, a good man. He could never be my enemy.” 

“Most unusual,” Zadkiel stated, more to himself than to Magnus. “A strange love indeed.” 

“What can I do to convince you to help him?” Magnus’ voice sounded desperate, more desperate, in fact, than during his exchange with Asmodeus. He knew he was stepping on unknown territory and that angels could be capricious and unpredictable.

“Do not pretend to know the will of the angels, demon son,” Zadkiel said. “Do not assume to know what we want.” 

“Forgive me,” Magnus responded, his tone contrite. “I am desperate, he does not have much time left.” 

Zadkiel looked at Alec once again, his eyes showing a bit more interest than before. “What you feel for this boy and what he feels for you intrigues me. Do you know that even in the depths of his suffering, he still thinks of you? He worries that you will blame yourself for his fate, and you torment yourself because you have not been able to cure him of the demonic ailment that slowly consumes his soul. Hum, intriguing indeed,” he added as he run a finger along his lower lip in a gesture that was a mixture of curiosity and awe. 

“Please Lord Zadkiel,” Magnus pleaded. “Please save him, do not deprive his people of his leadership and me of his love. I will give you anything you ask.” 

“Anything?” Zadkiel replied fixing Magnus with brilliant golden eyes, a smile curving the corners of his mouth, his expression of curiosity deepening. 

“Yes, anything.” 

“Would you sacrifice a memory?” Zadkiel asked and now his face was the face of a child that had capture an ant under his magnifying glass and was preparing to burn it alive. 

“I would give up all my memories in exchange for Alec’s life. You can take them all.” Magnus knew that the bargain was dangerous, that he was risking more than he had ever risked before, but there was no other choice. 

“I don’t mean your memory,” Zadkiel replied, finally closing the trap that caught Magnus. “Would you sacrifice the boy’s memory of you?” 

“Do you mean that in exchange for Alec’s life you would make him forget me?” Magnus asked by way of an answer, his heart beating in his chest, his hands trembling. This was not what he had expected, this cruel and terrible bargain, was not something he would have ever imagined. But then, Angels were known for their cold cruelty. 

“I am willing to cure him, but he will not remember ever meeting or loving you, and you will not remind him. That is what I ask in return for my mercy.” 

Magnus looked down at his hands for a moment as he tried to gather his emotions and settle his racing thoughts. There was no other choice; he knew it. He did not have to think twice about it. He was trapped, he was lost. He would let Zadkiel erase him from Alec’s memory if that meant that Alec would live, that he would breath and laugh again, and perhaps one day love another, not with him though. For he would disappear. He would be swallowed by an ocean of obliviousness. 

“Decide,” Zadkiel said interrupting his mental chatter. “I don’t have all day, demon son.”

 “What kind of divine deity chooses to deprive one of his loyal servants of a love so pure as the one Alexander and I share?” Magnus asked, grasping at straws, surprised at his own words, knowing the answer even before the question came out. He was angry and desperate all of the sudden, unwilling to give up this man he loved with all the strength left in him. “Is this the only way?” 

“That is what it will take,” Zadkiel replied, his tone apparently unconcerned about Magnus’ outburst. “If you want him to live, it will cost you his memory.”

Magnus took a deep breath and as he exhaled, he looked at Zadkiel in the eyes and nodded once, his own eyes already filling with tears. Zadkiel turned towards Alec and extending his right arm, send a burst of golden energy straight into his heart. Alec gasped and as his chest expended, his back arched against the cushions. In seconds, the inky dark blue that had formed intricate patterns on his neck, arms, face and chest began to recede and fade. “He will soon wake up,” Zadkiel stated, as he turned from Alec back to Magnus. “I now bid you goodbye, demon son. Do not call upon me again and do not ever pretend to know the will of the angels.” 

Suddenly, the golden brilliance in Zadkiel’s eyes faded and Jace fell on one knee, the sun no longer creating an aura around his golden head. After a second, Jace took a deep breath and looked up at Magnus. “What did you do Magnus? Why would you…” 

“I did what I had to,” Magnus interrupted whatever else Jace was about to ask. “What needed to be done.” He approached Alec’s side and sat beside him on the sofa, taking the Shadowhunter’s hand in one of his own and resting the other on his chest, making sure that Zadkiel had fulfilled his side of the bargain. After a quick examination, he looked up and Jace and nodded, relief and deep sadness mixing on his expression. 

“Is he okay?” Jace asked coming to stand beside Magnus. 

“Yes, he should wake up soon. It is time to call your parents and sister. They are going to want to be here when he wakes up. I will open a portal for them.” 

“What should we tell them?” Jace asked. 

“That I found a cure,” Magnus replied, his voice quivering as he brought his lips to Alec’s hand and kissed it, hiding his face so Jace would not see the tears that were running down his cheeks and onto the blanket.

* * *

 

Alec did not know how long he had been floating lost and aimless in the dark black fog. He could not see anything and the only thing he felt was a cold so deep that froze the marrow of bones. He tried to remember what had happened and how he had come to be here, but his thoughts were a jumbled of confusing images: a battle, a fire, a face ugly and disgusting, a sudden sharp pain hitting him in the center of his chest, another face tears running down its cheek, the touch of soft hands. He tried to look at his hands but in the dark he could not see them, and the cold was so that he could not feel them either. He was just a mind lost in an endless void. Sometimes, he thought he felt a touch and the feel of hands, but when he tried to open his eyes, they did not obey him. Sometimes, he thought he saw a pair of slit cat pupils looking at him from the darkness, but as he tried to make sense of them, they disappeared, swallowed by the endless darkness. He was dying, he thought, dying slowly and alone. 

A sharp pain suddenly hit him with a savagery worse than before, a pain that cut him in two and jumbled his thoughts. As the pain overwhelmed him, he began to fall. But rather than hitting ground, water began to cover him, cold, freezing water. Alec struggled for air, because he did not want to drown, but the water was too strong and began to pull him under. The last thing he saw before the water closed over him were those cat eyes looking at him from the darkness, beckoning him not to give up.    

He did not drown, however, and he did not die, or at least he did not think he was dead yet, for death should be painless and his body hurt him. It hurt him in his chest where he could feel the firm grip of a hand squeezing, squeezing all the air out. Yet instead of letting go, Alec’s body continuously betrayed him by not giving up, by continuing struggling for air, by gasping, even as Alec wished for death. 

After who knows how long and how many deaths, Alec began to see a dim light, grey at first, then golden and finally white, shining through his closed eyelids. Before he even knew it, he was back, the pain suddenly worse and then fading, washing over him and leaving through his fingertips and toes. He sighed, a deep sigh of relief, the first painless intake of breath in centuries. His ears could hear murmurs in the distance, murmurs that got louder and louder the closer to the surface he got. As the voices became clearer, he began to notice that he occupied physical space once again, his hands were his own and they touched soft fabric; his feet were his own and were covered with a blanket; his nose was his own and it perceived the scent of coffee, bergamot and fresh mountain air, the scents nagging at something in his memory, something he could not quite recall. 

Before he even tried to open his eyes, he blindly reached out with his hand, and someone took it and squeezed it gently. Calling on all his willpower he coaxed his eyes to open and as they slowly began to obey, blurry images replaced the white light, and a pair of golden-brown eyes came slowly into focus. For some reason, the sight of those eyes made him feel disappointment, as if he had expected to see something or someone else, but he could not pinpoint what it was that he had wished to see.  

“There you are, welcome back,” a voice said, Jace’s voice, his brother’s voice calling to him, a smile drawing on his mouth, his expression of deep relief becoming clearer as the last of cobwebs fell from Alec’s mind. As Alec turned, another pair of eyes came into focus, black and deep, his mother’s, and a relieved smile soon joined them, his mother’s beautiful and unforgettable face greeting him. “How are you feeling sweetheart?” she asked.

Unsure yet whether his voice would obey him, he tried to mouth a response. What came out was a hoarse whisper. “I am fine.” 

More smiles and expressions of relief soon joined Jace and his mother, Izzy’s small hands grasped his other hand, his father patted him on the shoulder, his face showing unusual joy. Alec searched on the faces of his loved ones for something, not sure what, something missing, something that was supposed to be there but wasn’t, and despite the relief he felt for no longer being lost in the fog, a sadness seemed to have taken residence in his heart. 

Someone, his mother, put another pillow under his head and he was finally able to see more of the unfamiliar room, the sunlight filtering through big windows illuminating the faces of his family in a bluish brightness. “Can I have some water?” he asked once he was certain his voice would obey him once again. 

“Certainly,” said his mother and she walked away. 

“Are you in pain?” Jace asked. 

“Not much,” Alec replied, looking at his brother and noticing for the first time the signs of exhaustion on his face. He then turned and scanned the room, more carefully this time, and there by a doorway, he thought he saw a pair of cat eyes, looking at him, for just a second, before they were swallowed by the shadows and disappeared, leaving just a scent of bergamot and fresh mountain air behind. Alec wanted to ask who had been standing by the doorway, but at that moment, his mother came back and helping him lift his head, brought a glass to his lips, and the question escaped his mind, as he relished in the sensation of liquid running down his throat, clearing his mind, and finally bringing him completely back to life.

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, leave a comment and let me know what you think. Happy summer** **solstice!**


	7. Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do I know you?” Alec asked without preamble, his voice so familiar and so loved, his eyes so brown and so expectant, his face as breathtaking as Magnus remembered it. “And, why did I leave you my family’s ring in my will?”

Two weeks after the Idris doctors declared that any remaining Eidolon poison was out of his system and that, in fact, he presented no indication of ever having been poisoned, Alec and his team finally defeated Jonathan Morgenstern in an epic battle that almost destroyed Idris. Magnus, however, was not there to celebrate the victory and he did not find out until afterwards, when Jace sent him a discrete fire message that reached him across a great distance. The message was short and to the point: “We won! He was glorious, I wish you had been here to see it.”

Jace remained true to the pact that he and Magnus hastily made right before his family arrived and Alec woke up. Without revealing more than necessary, Jace explained to his parents and sister that Alec would not remember Magnus, that this was part of the deal that Magnus had made in exchange for Alec’s recovery; that, because of the conditions of that deal, they must not tell him about Magnus. His parents were so relieved to know that Alec would live that they did not ask many questions. Jace suspected that deep down they felt somewhat relieved because they would no longer have to explain their son’s relationship or sexuality to any of their friends. Maryse and Robert were of an older generation, a generation still bound by old and outdated conventions and traditions. Even though Jace wished he could challenge them, he did not, because at that moment, their happiness and relief meant that they did not ask any questions that he could not answer. 

Izzi, always the warrior and Magnus and Alec’s steadfast supporter, proved harder to convince. After the initial relief at seeing Alec alive, she was outraged and argued that she had not been part of any deal and, thus, was not bound to secrecy.  Jace warned her that Alec’s recovery and possibly his life depended on the whole family living up to their end of the bargain and in the end, she grudgingly agreed. 

Izzi and his parents believed that Magnus had made a deal with Asmodeus and Jace did not contradict them because that was the easiest and safest assumption. They did not need to know the extent to which he and Magnus had gone to save Alec. 

And, so it came to be, that Alec returned to a life that, by all appearances, was normal: a life of duty, responsibilities, and leadership. In no time, the threat that was Jonathan took center stage and all other concerns fell by the wayside. Alec jumped back into his role as Head of the Institute without missing as much as a step, and in the weeks that followed, his skills as a strategist, his capacity to put the safety of his team before his own, his bravery and his unfailing loyalty proved invaluable as they worked relentlessly to track and defeat Jonathan. His role in the final battle earned him the respect of the Clave and most importantly, the recognition and pride of his father. 

If Alec suspected anything, or if he had any questions about those days in which he laid moribund and in the grip of demon pox, or about the conditions that made his recovery possible, he did not say anything. And, if he experienced any lacunas in his memory, he kept them to himself and most likely attributed them to the aftereffects of the poisoning. 

Yet, Jace, who knew Alec better than anyone and who shared the closest of bonds with him, saw a change in his brother than perhaps others did not notice. It was as if the clock had gone back and Alec had become once again a closeted, lonely and reserved person, someone who despite being a great leader, carried within deep insecurity, a secret he did not dare reveal. On those occasions in which he convinced Alec to go for a drink with the rest of the team after the end of their shift, Alec sat by himself and apart, seeking a place in the shadows from which to observe those around him while eluding notice. Gone were Alec’s open and at times flirtatious smiles; gone were his unexpected expressions of affection, and gone was the happiness of being in love. Jace could not be sure, but sometimes he thought that Alec was waiting for someone, that he looked towards the door as if he hoped that the next person to enter the room would be Magnus. But of course, he knew that was not possible, that Alec no longer knew who Magnus was and the role he had played in his life, that all vestiges of the warlock ever having been in Alec’s life had disappeared the moment that the angel healed his brother. Other times, Jace felt a deep feeling of absence, a wanting and an aching that Alec unintentionally shared with him through their parabatai bond. But when Jace asked Alec if he was okay, his response was always that everything was fine. 

Many times, Jace was tempted to tell Alec about Magnus in hopes of jogging his memory and convince him to go after the warlock. At other times he watched Alec for any sign that would suggest he was remembering. He missed his old brother, the boy that had become a man when he found a love so special that it allowed him to come out of his shell. Izzy, who was the only other person who seemed to notice the changes, repeatedly argued with Jace against the wisdom of remaining silent. But despite his doubts, Jace remained unwavering in his commitment to honor the deal they had made with the angel, a commitment for which he knew Magnus had paid dearly.  As time passed, he began to wish that Alec would fall in love again, so he could fill that space in his life that seemed to remain empty. Yet, doing so made him feel that he was somehow betraying Magnus. 

Except for Jace’s message, to which he did not reply, Magnus did not find out any other details surrounding Jonathan’s defeat and death. Nor did he give in to the temptation of calling Jace to ask how Alec was doing. He feared that if he did, he could not stop himself from going to see Alec, even if just from a distance or from the shadows the way he had watched him as he opened his eyes the morning Zadkiel healed him. 

Despite it having been his home for decades, Magnus did not return to New York either. In fact, as soon as he made sure that Alec was conscious; as soon as he saw that Alec’s eyes were open and bright, Magnus turned on his heels and, before his determination failed him, walked out of the chalet. Once outside, he opened a portal and, after taking one last look at the breathtaking French Alps gleaming in the morning sun, stepped into it, not sure about his destination and not really caring either. He came out a second later and onto the room in his beach house by the Australian coast, the afternoon sun filtering through the still partially closed curtains. 

He had meant to put the room right, to dispose of the hospital bed and the medical equipment before Susan, his housekeeper, showed up and began asking questions. But as soon as he saw the room – the bed on which Alec had almost died, and from which he had told him that he loved him and begged him to kill him to save his soul – all strength and willpower abandoned Magnus. Instead, he walked to the bed and lifting to his nose the pillow on which Alec’s head had rested, inhaled deeply, the scent of Alec penetrating every cell of his body, making his absence ever more pressing and enormous. Magnus felt that a bomb had exploded in the center of his being and left a hole so big that nothing could ever fill it, a hole that swallowed all the light and all the magic from the world. He felt empty, hollowed, only memories left where the reality of being loved and accepted had been before.   

“Damn you, Alexander Lightwood!” he screamed into the pillow, “damn you for loving me and for making me love you. Damn you Zadkiel for taking him from me.” He was not really angry at Alec. In fact, seeing him open his eyes, his gaze clear and pain-free for the first time in so long, had given him more happiness and relief than he had ever thought possible to feel.  And, while he was angry at Zadkiel’s cruelty, he could not bring himself to despise him. For the angel had given a beautiful soul back to the world, just not back to him. Magnus was rather angry at himself, for having been so weak that he had pushed Alec to strike a bargain with Asmodeus, a bargain that kept them apart and that sent him into battle alone and unprotected. He thought that if he had been there with Alec during Jonathan’s attack, he could have protected him. Now, he was paying the price for the weakness and selfishness that had made him regret losing his powers, the weakness that had made him unable to see the amazing mortal life he could have had with Alec. 

When five days later Susan, the housekeeper, arrived to clean in the house, she found the place in complete disarray and Magnus unconscious on an unfamiliar bed, surrounded by countless empty bottles of scotch, tequila, and rum. After making sure that he was still alive, despite the strong stench of stale alcohol and unwashed body that surrounded him, she picked up the phone and called her brother Mandrik. He had, after all, been the one to introduce her to Magnus, the one to get her the job over ten years before, the one to tell her that if she ever saw anything strange in the house to ignore it or call him. 

Mandrik arrived in his old pickup truck three hours later as Susan was finishing up the cleaning, Magnus completely oblivious to her comings and goings. He took one look at the warlock and without as much as a comment, or even an attempt to wake him, picked him up and half carried, and half dragged him out of the house. He settled him in the truck’s passenger seat and, after quickly hugging his sister, drove off. By the time Magnus opened his eyes hours later, his mouth parched, his vision blurry and a headache splitting his head in two, they were far away from the coast, flying on a small plane full of chatty, exited and very noisy tourists on their way to the Uluru. 

“What happened?” Magnus asked because that was the only question that came to his very disoriented mind. He then had to hold his head in both hands before it exploded. It took a lot for warlocks to get drunk and even more for them to get a hangover, but this was Magnus’ worse hangover ever. 

“G'day mate,” Mandrik cheerfully replied as he handed him a bottle of water. “Ugh, you look and smell worse than roadkill,” he added in reaction to Magnus’ pasty complexion and disheveled appearance. 

“Mandrik? Where are we?” Magnus asked looking at his old friend with bleary and bloodshot eyes, his voice still heavy with sleep. Before waiting for an answer, he drank almost the whole bottle in one swing, his throat feeling like sandpaper and his stomach like a desert that had not seen water in centuries. 

“You sure were drunk, Magnus. I could not wake you and I could not leave you either,” Mandrik replied. “So, I brought you along. Too hot to leave you in the truck and I have a tour,” he added pointing behind him to the chatty tourists. 

“I wish you had left me,” Magnus said with a groan as he looked out the window at the empty vastness below, the altitude worsening the sensation of vertigo and threatening to turn his stomach. “I thought you were my friend.” 

“I am, mate. That is why I did not abandon you by the side of the road. I figured that a few days in the Outback will help you get over whatever sent you into the path of self-destruction. I am surprised Magnus; I remember you drinking me under the table a few times in the past. Whatever happened must be pretty big to make you drink yourself into oblivion.” In Mandrik’s mouth, the Australian accent of his childhood seemed to seamlessly blend with the London drawl he had picked up during his years of university study away from home; in his manner, the gruffness of a life spent in the outdoors also mixed with uncanny easy with an elegance acquired in years spent living among books and works of art.   

Magnus did not offer any explanation, and Mandrik did not push for one. Instead, he drunk the rest of the water and looked out the window at a landscape that slowly changed from green to brown and then orange. He did not think he could explain to his friend that his heart was broken, that he was broken, that the world seemed empty and broken itself, that nothing made sense anymore. Mandrik would not understand, no one would, because, at that moment, Magnus felt that no one in the whole of creation had ever loved the way he loved that darn Shadowhunter that had stolen his heart. The depth of his sorrow was so enormous that there were no words capable of capturing his desolation. 

In his very long life, Magnus had always endeavored to leave a mark in the places he visited and in the people he met. Even if those people eventually aged and died, he wanted to believe that they carried good, or at least lasting memories of him as they left the world. But when Zadkiel healed Alec, he made Magnus disappear from his life, not just leave, but rather never exist. Magnus felt that he had been sent into oblivion, that if Alec did not hold any memories of him, then Magnus did not truly exist. Magnus would have preferred that Alec leave him a thousand times to this state of non-existence and to the knowledge that Alec would never remember the immense love they had shared. 

“Drink up mate,” Mandrik said a few minutes later as he handed him another bottle of water. “We still have some way to go and I don’t fancy you being sick on my plane.”  When Magnus looked back at him once again, Mandrik smiled, the smile conveying understanding and acceptance. 

Magnus also saw reflected on his friend’s broad sun-tanned and stubbled-covered face the last remaining features of the small scrawny child he had met years before, when Magnus had come to Australia for the first time this century, met Mandrik senior and helped him get rid of the kinie ger demon that had almost ruined his business. Not having the money to pay for his services, old Mandrik had offered Magnus the summer house as payment and had refused to listen to reason when Magnus declined to accept it. He, like all his people, was a proud man despite the long history of injustice that kept the Australian Aborigines poor, excluded and marginalized. His son, little Mandrik as the family called him, had been a loud child with long skinny legs, skin the color of clay, and an unruly mane of black hair. He had also had a rebellious streak especially when it came to his father’s insistence that he went to school and get a proper education, a rebellious streak that only his father’s love and discipline had been able to keep in check. Years later, upon his father’s retirement and after finishing a degree in English literature, Mandrik took over the business and under his care, it grew to become one of the most sought-after adventure tour experiences in Australia and New Zealand. He and Magnus remained friends and Mandrik was one of the few mundanes that knew what Magnus truly was. 

They landed in a small airport in the middle of the Outback an hour later. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Magnus run to one side of the landing strip and threw up on some thorny bushes, his stomach heaving and twisting as it ejected the last of the alcohol still inside it. When there was nothing left in his stomach to get rid of, he straightened and, as he run the sleeve of his shirt across his sweaty face, looked towards the distance. The dry air and the scent of desert hit him in the face, dispersing some of the cobwebs from his mind. Even in his hangover and desolate state, he had to recognize that the landscape extending in front of him was breathtaking. The setting sun had colored the sky a vivid purple marked with long streaks of red, orange and yellow while the ground looked like it had been painted a brilliant crimson. He had never been in the outback before and, thus, the landscape stroke him as completely foreign, as if rather than flying a few hours away from the coast, they had actually managed to travel to another planet. 

Before he could stop himself, Magnus was wishing that Alec was here. His hands longed to reach and find Alec’s hand, and his body ached for the sensation of Alec’s body next to his, and for the comfort of Alec’s arms wrapped around him. He wondered what it would be like to see this incredible landscape reflected in Alec’s wondrous expression and to see the broad smile that rose to Alec’s lips every time something surprised him. Without thinking, Magnus brought his hand to his chest and, over his shirt, touched the Lightwood ring that now hanged on a silver chain around his neck, and the weight of Alec’s absence suddenly felt unbearable. 

Soon, however, the tourists’ loud and excited chatter interrupted his quiet contemplation and intensified the sharp pain that had permanently settled in between his eyes. With a sigh that was a mixture of sadness and resignation, Magnus turned and followed the chatty group towards the trucks that would take them to Mandrik’s camp. That night, after a shower and a dinner he barely touched, Magnus thanked Mandrik for procuring for him a comfortable tent with what looked like a very soft bed, hiking boots, and a backpack with a change of clothes and all he needed for the upcoming days of trekking. However, instead of going to bed, and wanting to get as far away from the cheerful tourists as was safely possible, he gathered his sleeping bag and walked towards the edge of the camp. Once there, he set the sleeping bag down and got in it. 

Magnus had never liked camping. Sleeping rough reminded him too much of his childhood on the streets, begging for food and sleeping in dark alleys. No matter how comfortable and luxurious Mandrik’s camp was, he had never understood why people paid him thousands of dollars to sleep in a tent, eat out of plastic or aluminum dishes and brave the insects while hiking thousands of kilometers from any sign of civilization. Yet, that night as he laid on the hard and dry ground and looked at the star-studded sky, the voices and laughs of the tourists no longer reaching him, he thought he would not mind getting lost in the wilderness for a while, forever or for as long as it took for the pain in the center of his soul to subside. He reached under his shirt for Alec’s ring and, sliding it halfway down his index finger, brought it to his lips and kissed it. As exhaustion and the last persistent remnants of the hangover slowly defeated him, Magnus gazed at the stars and imagined Alec looking down on him, his eyes shining in the darkness. His last thought that night and on many nights to come was a prayer for Alec’s safety and happiness. 

This is how Magnus ended up in one of the most remotes parts of the world and began a futile search for something to fill the terrible emptiness that Alec left in his life. He went without planning or purpose. The day after Mandrik dragged him onto his company’s plane, he got up and followed his friend, the guides and the rest of the group on a long day of hiking across a vast open landscape. When they caught up to the camp caravan at the foot of the Uluru that evening, rather than going to sleep in the tent Mandrik arranged for him, again he took his sleeping bag to a quiet spot at the edge of the camp and fell asleep gazing at the imposing and massive monolith, its red face gleaming in the darkness. Over the next few days, he ate when the camp staff offered him food and drunk mostly water because anything else would dehydrate even the strongest of man in that dry terrain. Otherwise, he kept to himself and rarely spoke to anyone except to offer help to the kitchen staff. Before he knew it, more than a week had gone by and the tourists were ready to leave, happy, tanned and with a plethora of stories to share back home. Without consciously deciding it or discussing it with Mandrik, Magnus remained and watched the tourists go, glad for the momentary silent reprieve. 

Mandrik did not ask him how long he planned to stay. For the first few days, he kept expecting Magnus to simply disappear through a portal and return to his life in New York without as much as a goodbye. Yet, Magnus stayed despite the heat, the discomfort and the un-Magnus-like rhythm of camp life. When he returned with the next group of tourists that evening, Mandrik brought Magnus a couple of books from his very extensive library, and after supper placed them beside his sleeping bag, hoping that they would provide a refined balance to the rough camping experience. When Magnus finished them, he brought more, the gesture becoming an offer of friendship that did not require Magnus telling him anything he did not feel ready to tell. 

As a week turned into two, and then four, and then months, Magnus began to measure time by Mandrik, his staff and the tourists’ comings and goings, and things fell into a predictable pattern. Tourists arrived, Mandrik and the staff guided them on long hiking trips, sometimes walking, sometimes on horseback, across the grand Australian outback, always following a slightly different route because Mandrik did not like repetition. Magnus always followed silently along, rarely speaking to anyone, commonly sitting apart from the group, reading or at least pretending to read, or gazing towards the distance. Over time, not even the staff asked themselves anymore about the reason for his presence and he became a sort of permanent and silent fixture of the camp. 

Every night, he ate dinner with the group and then found a quiet spot to lay down his sleeping bag. After spending a long while looking up at the stars, holding Alec’s ring in his hand, or rereading Alec’s letter, which after so much unfolding and refolding had become creased, he fell asleep, thinking of Alec, wondering what he might be doing and who he might be doing it with, sad, exhausted and aching. Sometimes, he convinced himself that he would get over Alec, that the following day would be better, but every morning he woke with the vivid memory of Alec’s body curled up against his; of Alec’s breathing, even and soothing, close to his ear; of Alec’s arms around him, and the absence and the aching hit him anew.   

During those first few months, Magnus slept under fragrant eucalyptus trees and beside the swollen trunks of baobab trees, in the shelter of the Uluru and the Kata Tjuta, on the rocky edge of a cliff overlooking Karlu Karlu, and on ground that was so dried and red that for days his skin acquired the color of terracotta. Some nights he heard the call of wild animals, but none ever approached him. Perhaps they perceived that he was not truly human; perhaps after months of walking through that expansive landscape, he had become part of the wildlife. 

Over time, Magnus, who had always endeavored to live a glamourous, civilized and stylish life, started to look a little wild. Feeling no need to cut it or style it, his hair grew long. When the wind blew it across his eyes, he tied it with a string in a haphazard ponytail. He dressed in the non-descript, multilayer and utilitarian fashion of the camp staff: sturdy shoes, parkas, cotton shirts, cargo shorts and pants, and unfashionable flee hoodies. If he had looked at himself in a mirror, he would have had to smile because, without intending to, he had adopted an Alec-like wardrove. Magnus did not wear makeup either and the only grooming he allowed himself was a shower and a shave whenever the opportunity presented itself and he could no longer stand the dust and sand on his skin. He did not use magic, not even to light a fire to warm himself during the cold nights in the Outback. It was as if with the loss of Alec, the attachment he had felt to his magic powers and which had made him regret trading them for Jace’s life had also abandoned him.  Or, perhaps it was that without Alec, his magic powers did not matter anymore; perhaps the world had simply lost its magic and he felt no desire to search for it. Thus, for the first time since his powers first manifested, Magnus lived a completely mundane life without shortcuts, spells or potions. If anyone had asked him, he would have said that he did not miss using magic, that somehow his powers had gone dormant, and he felt no desire to awake them. 

Once in a while, a fire message from Catarina or Tessa reached him, always asking whether he was okay, when he was coming back, and what had happened that had made him leave New York. Magnus never replied. But when Catarina threated to call a search team, he finally borrowed Mandrik’s satellite phone, called her and left her a calming voice message, glad that she had been too busy to pick up because he did not feel he could answer any of his friend’s questions. 

Over breakfast in early September, Mandrik told Magnus that he and a few of his staff had been hired to guide a group of hardcore athletes on a six-month hiking and horseback adventure along the Te Araroa trapping trail in New Zealand and that, unless he had finally grown weary of living rough, he was welcomed to come along. “I guess I could do that,” Magnus curtly replied, not showing much excitement, “when do we leave?” His friend’s answer was a smile and a pat on his shoulder. 

For months Mandrik resisted the impulse to ask Magnus why he had left New York, and why he was on this search that was so unlike anything anyone would have imagined when thinking of the warlock. He had learned to recognize heartbreak and knew that only time would heal Magnus’ heart and perhaps lose his tongue. Magnus did not offer any explanations either and was thankful for his friend’s respectful silence, and his contentedness to talk mostly about books. However, one night in early December when they sat by a warm fire, somewhere along the Tongarino Alpine Crossing, the silhouette of the volcano still visible in the distance, Mandrik finally had to broach the topic. 

“I got a call today,” he began, as he passed Magnus a mug of hot coffee, “from your mate, the one you called a while ago from my phone. Catarina, she said her name was. She said you have not answered any of her messages, and that she needs to talk to you about some stuff going on in New York; it sounded urgent.” 

Magnus sighed but remained silent. He had received the fire messages from Catarina but, except for the first one, had not opened any of them. The New York warlocks were trying to call him back, something about an investigation concerning Lorenzo as well as some issues with his penthouse. He was just not ready yet to be pulled back into his old life, and Catarina’s messages were intended to do just that. 

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” Mandrik asked. “I mean you don’t have to, but perhaps speaking about it would help.” 

Magnus looked at his friend and saw in his face such an open and sincere concern that, without intending to, he began to tell Mandrik about the young Shadowhunter who had captivated him from the first moment he had shyly looked in his direction; about witnessing the wondrous process of self-discovery that had eventually brought that Shadowhunter into his life; about the nights he had spent in the arms of a lover that was so incredibly innocent and generous; about realizing that after centuries and countless lovers, he had never truly been in love until  he met Alec; about the demon pox and the bargain he had made; about how incredibly insignificant he felt now that he had been erased from Alec’s life and memory. 

“You cannot run from your life forever, Magnus,” Mandrik said a while later, when Magnus paused to run an inconspicuous hand across his face to dry the tears that, despite all his efforts, had begun to fall down his face. “Escape is never the solution. You cannot live forever in this place in between; not even I, who loves this job, can live for too long with the constant comings and goings of tourists, this permanent state of impermanence. Even I need to go home as often as I can. As long as you stay away, you will not completely come to terms with what you have lost or start anew.” 

“I just don’t think I have anything left to go back to.” 

“Yes, you do,” Mandrik stated. “You have a home, people who respect you and even need you. Even if Alexander does not remember you, you still matter. Besides, unless you plan to continue in this perpetual vagabonding, you will have to eventually go back to civilization.” 

“I know, but not yet,” Magnus replied after a long silence. At that moment and for months still to come, Magnus did not feel he could face going back to his old life, to a life empty of Alec, a life in which Alec did not know him. He felt that as long as he stayed away, he could hold on to the illusion of still being part of the Shadowhunter’s life.  He thought that if he waited long enough, perhaps his heart would heal. After all, he was immortal and would have to eventually outlive his heartbreak. 

At that moment, thousands of kilometers and a whole ocean away, Alec was awakening, the familiar dream still vivid in his mind: a dream of a body lying next to him and the eyes of a cat looking at him from the shadows. As he had done many times before, in his sleep he had reached for the stranger’s hand, needing to hold it against his chest, wanting to pull the stranger closer and feel the sensation of that body melting into his own. But his hand had touched only emptiness and he had awoken, his skin aching for the stranger’s touch, his heart in suspense. The dream was familiar because he had had it, or a variation of it, almost every night for months. Sometimes the stranger was looking at him from a corner of the room but when Alec reached for him or beckoned him, the stranger turned and walked away. Other times, like now, the stranger was so close that Alec just needed to reach and touch him, but when he did, he touched only empty air. Sometimes the dreams were so vivid that he thought he could smell the stranger’s scent of bergamot and fresh mountain air and feel the stranger’s breath on his own skin. Except for those unusual eyes, Alec could never make up the stranger’s face because it was always in shadows. 

The dreams should have frightened him, but instead, they left him with the sensation that he knew the stranger, that there was a connection between them, a connection he could not quite understand. Every dream also intensified the sensation of emptiness, absence and wanting that seemed to have taken permanent residence in his chest. At times, when he was awake, he felt that he was waiting for the stranger, that at any moment he would see him walking through the door or around a corner, and the anticipation filled him with a sense of excitement he could not explain or satisfy. 

Alec sighed, run a hand through his hair, and then turned and, swinging his legs off the bed, sat on the edge of the mattress. The first light of day was filtering in thin lines through the half-closed blinds, and beyond, the New York skyline gleamed in the icy winter morning. He rested his head in his hands and took a deep breath and, as he had done almost every morning for months, tried to push the memory of the dream off his mind. As he had done for months, Alec wondered whether there was something wrong with him; whether a part of his soul had been lost when he had almost died all those months before, whether the demon poison had somehow changed him. He had waited for things to feel normal again, but they never had, and he could not help feeling that he had lost something during his illness, something that he needed in order to feel truly alive. 

 _Duty calls_ , he thought after a moment of reflection in which he realized that there was nothing he could do to change the state of his heart. Work and duty were the only things that made sense, the only things he knew how to do well, and the only things that gave him a feeling of fulfillment.

 

* * *

 

“He is coming back!” Izzy announced one warm spring evening as she entered the situation room where Jace was reviewing the reports from the patrol teams of the previous night. 

“Who is coming back?” Jace asked only halfheartedly listening to his sister, his concentration mostly on a report of an illegal demon summoning a team had stopped the night before. Warlocks in New York were becoming more and more careless since Lorenzo Ray had become High Warlock and Jace was not looking forward to another talk with the disagreeable man. 

“You know who,” Izzy replied. “He is flying in to sort out the mess with Lorenzo. He is arriving by plane in the morning. By plane, can you believe it? Apparently, he prefers to travel like a mundy these days.” 

“How do you know?” Jace asked, finally catching up to his sister’s meaning. 

“Catarina told me.” Izzy’s eyes had that shine they always had when she was about to do or propose something reckless, something that Jace would either deeply enjoy or regret. “Clary and I went to see her to ask for help with some wedding stuff and she told me. Isn’t that a great coincidence?” 

“What wedding stuff?” Jace asked, his expression dubious. 

“That is for me and your fiancé to know and for you to find out, dear brother. But don’t change the subject. He is coming back! Come on, Jace, it has been almost a year. How long are we going to keep doing this to Alec?” she added exasperated by the ‘not-this-again’ expression on Jace’s face. Soon it would be the one-year anniversary of the battle in which Jonathan was finally defeated, and the whole Clave and its Institutes were preparing for ceremonies to commemorate those who had been lost. A whole year had passed, a year in which so much had to be rebuilt, a year in which they had had to come to terms with what had been lost and could not be recovered. _But perhaps some things could be recovered_ , Izzy thought, _perhaps it was not too late to mend what remained broken in her brother’s soul._  

“Oh Izzy, why do you insist in putting me in this situation over and over again?” Jace replied. “I have told you so many times…” 

“Doesn’t it break your heart, Jace, to see Alec going about his life as if he was only half alive?” Izzy interjected. 

“Of course, it does,” Jace acknowledged with a deep sigh. His determination to keep quiet had wavered so many times in the last year. So many times, he had been about to say something; a couple, he had even begun to tell Alec what he wanted so much for his brother to know and to remember. “But it is too risky, Izzy.” 

“Come on, Jace, grow a pair! This is your chance! He is back! Alec deserves to know!” 

“Who is back? And what do I deserve to know?” Alec asked from the doorway, his eyes fixed on his brother, his expression a mask of solemn curiosity.

 

* * *

 Magnus looked at his reflection in the mirror and smiled faintly. For the man looking back at him seemed like a stranger. A year living in the outdoors had turned him a bit scruffy, with callous hands and a tanned skin. While he remained slim, a year of walking and horseback riding had toned up his muscles in a way he did not completely dislike. His hair, which he had not cut since he left New York, had grown and now fell almost half way down his back in a thick black cascade, giving him the look of a bohemian or perhaps a Gypsy. He kept it tied in a low ponytail because that was the easiest and most practical thing to do. 

His first stop upon arriving back in Sydney, and before catching the plane that in a little more than 20 hours flew him across the ocean, had been a department store where he picked up a black coat, black shirt, dark grey jeans, and leather boots. If he was going to heed the latest summon from the Spiral Labyrinth, go to New York and try to fix the mess that Lorenzo was making, he would have to look the part of the powerful warlock. Cargo pants, t-shirt, parka, and hiking boots did not provoke intimidation or fear and he needed to provoke them if he was going to confront Lorenzo. Beside the outfit, everything else he carried was in a scruffy backpack that fit in the overhead compartment. He did not plan to stay long in New York. He would fix the mess Lorenzo was making, hire a real estate agent to sell his penthouse and leave before anyone noticed that he was in the city. 

The voice of the pilot over the speakers instructed the passengers to fasten their seatbelts because that they were about land and, after taking one last look in the mirror, Magnus went back to his seat. _Let’s do this_ , he thought; _Let’s fix Lorenzo’s mess as soon as possible and then leave._ He had made great efforts not to think about the fact that for the first time in almost a year, he would be in the same city as Alec. He did not want to think about it; he did not need the distraction or the temptation. Yet, as the plane approached the city that he had called home for so many decades, he could not help being anxious. He was not scared of what might happen to him; rather, he was scared of what he might do if he allowed his instincts to take over. Every cell in his body seemed to be coming alive and every one of them was edging him to go in search of Alec, if only to watch him from a distance. Yet, as he looked out the window at the morning light reflecting on the familiar New York landscape, he knew he had to resist. _Just a couple of days_ , he thought, _and then I will be gone for as long as Alexander calls this city home._

He walked out of the airport half an hour later and caught the first available cab, and as it took him towards Brooklyn, he began to count the many places they drove by that held memories of him and Alec: the restaurant where they went on a date; the park where they sat on a Saturday afternoon, the theater where they watched a play. The exercise confirmed his previous suspicion that he could not make a home for himself in the city again as long as the memories of Alec were still so fresh in his mind. Wanting to distract himself, he began to plan his visit. He would call Catarina and invite her to breakfast, start as soon as possible the work he had come to do, get things moving so he did not have to be here longer than needed. 

Magnus did not know yet where he would go after he dealt with the Lorenzo situation. Perhaps he would go back to work with Mandrik. Perhaps he would get lost somewhere else in the world for a while. Perhaps he could go to South America; after all, he had not been there in over a century. The world was big, and he was eternal; he just needed to find a place where to spend some of his immortal life. 

A minute later, the taxi turned at an intersection and suddenly he was riding along his familiar street, the sidewalks and cafés full of people on their way to work, walking their dogs, or getting breakfast before the start of the day. Before he knew it, he was paying the fare and getting off the cab in front of his building. But before walking in, he stood outside for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of his neighborhood, the mixtures of aromas and fragrances that made Brooklyn a place like no other. It was almost as wonderful as he remembered it, almost. If it wasn’t for the emptiness he still felt in the center of his being and for the memories of all those times he and Alec had stood here, he would feel like he was home. 

With a resigned exhalation, he picked up his backpack and made his way across the building’s front entrance. As he rode up on the elevator, he wondered whether Catarina had remembered to call his housekeeper to ask her to stock the refrigerator. He needed coffee and most likely a drink before he called his friend. He thought that he would ask Catarina to meet him at the café on the corner, the one that served those freshly baked bagels they both liked so much. However, as soon as he stepped out of the elevator, all thoughts of Catarina and breakfast suddenly vanished. His mind went completely blank, and his heart gave a startled jump inside his chest. For there, sitting on the carpeted floor by his front door, a white sheet of paper wrinkled and creased in his hand, was Alexander Lightwood waiting for him. 

“How do I know you?” Alec asked without preamble, his voice so familiar and so loved, his eyes so brown and so expectant, his face as breathtaking as Magnus remembered it. “And, why did I leave you my family’s ring in my will?”  


	8. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am here,” Alec replied and, setting the glass on the counter, headed back to Magnus, to the secure shelter of his arms and the incredible taste of his lips.

“How do I know you?” Alec asked as he stood up from the floor and turned the full force of his gaze on Magnus. 

Magnus came to a halt a couple of meters from his front door, his keys halfway out of his pocket. For a split second, he was convinced that his eyes were playing tricks on him, or that his jetlagged mind was making him hallucinate. His heart, however, was not deceived. For as soon as he saw Alec standing by his front door and heard his voice, it spun two summersaults in his chest before plummeting to the bottom of his stomach. A confusing sensation of cold and heat run down his spine and spread throughout his body, the hairs in the back of his neck and on his arms stood on end, and all blood rushed from his brain and down to his feet. His first instinct was to run to Alec, gather him in his arms and run fingers through his face, making sure he was not an apparition, the result of wishful thinking. He had imagined this moment every day for the last year; he had dreamed about it almost every night, and now it was happening, and he did not know what to do or what to say, whether to run away or to run towards Alec. 

 _“Oh no,_ ” he thought, as panic replaced joy, “ _oh no.”_ The memory of Zadkiel’s warning, of Alec dying, of the bargain he had made, invaded his mind and, like cold water thrown on fire, smothered the enormous happiness of a second before. 

“Ca-ca-can I help you?” he asked in a shaking voice, not knowing what else to say. Certain that if he continued looking at Alec, all would be lost, he hastily gazed down and pretended to search for his keys. He needed to buy some time, regain his self-composure and the control of his shaking hands.  He needed to get a hold of the emotions that were suddenly wracking havoc with the rhythm of his heart. He needed a moment to come up with answers to what Alec was asking, but in his sudden state shock, he could not remember the questions and all possible answers escaped him. 

“How do I know you?” Alec asked once again, the questions becoming almost a demand. 

Knowing that he could not realistically continue evading Alec’s eyes, Magnus looked back at the lovely young face he had pictured in his mind every single night before falling asleep under the stars. Alec’s eyes were so searching and probing that Magnus feared that he could see all the answers clearly written on his face. 

Alec looked at the young man standing in front of him and felt that something tugged at his mind, something just under the surface of his consciousness, out of reach, like a word on the tip of the tongue or a half-forgotten dream, something he tried with all his might to remember. There was something in the depth of those brown eyes, in the shape of that mouth, in the delicate yet determined lines of those cheekbones, and in the barely concealed sorrow in that expression. It was something that felt not only familiar, but comforting, calming, like coming home after a long absence, like the joy of finding something one feared lost forever. 

The breath suddenly caught in Alec’s throat. For without warning and for just a split second, the color and shape of the man’s pupils changed, all brown burning away, leaving behind the golden slit pupils of a cat, the same pupils that for months had haunted his waking and sleeping hours. It was just a moment, but in that moment an avalanche of images rushed to Alec’s mind, random and disorderly: the man smiling, laughing, the man’s eyes not sorrowful but playful as he walked in his direction down this same corridor, his arms extended, his lips curved into a perfect smile. 

Image after image rushed into Alec’s mind in an uncontainable and chaotic current, like a film running at high speed, like photos spilling to the floor, falling one on top of the other, without rhyme or reason. One moment, Alec was feeling the unfamiliar gaze of the man from across a room, the gaze awakening something in him and the next he was saying goodbye; one moment he was full of uncertainty and curiosity and the next he was the happiest man alive. It was as if when they changed, the man’s eyes unlocked some part of Alec’s mind, a room packed with images that were now spilling out all at once, invading his mind, overpowering and disorienting him. The sensory overload was so intense and the surprise so great that Alec had to reach for the wall, suddenly dizzy. He thought the ground had begun to shift under his feet as if an earthquake was shaking the building with such force that at any moment he would fall over. 

“Wow, Alexander” Magnus exclaimed as he closed the remaining distance that separated him from Alec and caught him before he collapsed to the floor. Seeing the color suddenly drain from Alec’s face and his lips turn almost blue, Magnus was seized by another rush of panic, Zadkiel’s warnings ringing in his ears. _No_ , he thought, _please no, not after all we have done and gone through. Please don’t take him from me again._ Without meaning to, Magnus was praying, pleading for Zadkiel’s mercy. 

With swift movements and without letting go of Alec, he took out his key and opened his front door. “Come inside and seat for a moment,” he said as he helped Alec across his threshold. 

As the stranger guided him towards the living room, Alec leaning heavily on him, the world spinning, and his head pounding, another rush of images assaulted him: images of him in this apartment, standing by the window; in the kitchen, making breakfast; sitting in the sofa reading a book. A multitude of voices began to ring in his ears and a million of confusing sensations began to run through his body: pain, happiness, tenderness, sadness, anger, longing, all fighting for his attention, none giving him truce. Alec felt that his mind and his body were betraying him, refusing to obey him, acting of their own accord. The feel of the man’s arms holding him were suddenly too much to bear, too familiar, too overwhelming, too disorienting. He wanted to run away, find a quiet corner to crouch, puts his hands against his ears to quiet the voices, and close his eyes to block out the images so he could think and collect himself. 

“Come seat here,” Magnus said as he helped Alec settle on the sofa, trying but failing to disguise the panic in his voice. “I will bring you some water. Or do you prefer a drink?” Not waiting for an answer, he turned, dropped his backpack on the floor and walked towards the kitchen, his hands still shaking and his thoughts in disarray. 

When he returned a moment later, he found Alec leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. “Here, drink this,” Magnus said, as with shaking hands put the glass of water in one of Alec’s hand. He had been tempted to pour both of them a drink but had decided that under the circumstances that was probably a very bad idea. He had barely slept since he decided that he could not delay his trip to New York any longer, and Alec was clearly not well. 

He did not seat beside Alec. Instead, he remained standing, his arms crossed over his chest, his hands trapped under his armpits just in case they decided to act of their accord and reach to touch Alec. “How do you feel?” he cautiously asked once Alec had taken a tentative sip of water. “Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to call anyone?” Perhaps Alec would prefer to have Jace here; perhaps he wanted to go home. Alec did not like showing weakness in front of strangers and he, Magnus, was obviously a stranger at the moment. 

“I, I, I don’t know,” Alec replied, his voice sounding as if it came from underground. “I am sorry,” he added, “I don’t know what happened.” 

“Don’t worry, just take your time, it will pass soon” Magnus tried to sound reassuring but failed. At that moment, Magnus’ heart was telling him one thing and his mind another. His heart ached to reach and touch Alec, to feel his forehead for a fever, to examine him to make sure the poison was not back. He wanted to gather Alec in his arms, tell him that he had spent every second they had been apart longing for him, missing him with an ache that knew no end. His mind, on the other hand, was telling him that they were treading in very dangerous waters, that Alec was in terrible peril, that he needed to find a way out of this impasse, a way to salvage the situation before all was lost. _Don’t say anything,_ he told himself, _keep your answers short and your emotions in check. As soon as Alec leaves, run to the airport. Let Catarina sort Lorenzo’s mess. You should not have come._  

Alec sat in silence, his eyes closed, the fingers of one hand pushing against his temple, trying in vain to put his thoughts in some kind of order, to stop the uncontained spill of images from drowning him. Magnus stood motionless and attentive in front of him, his eyes fixed on his face, watching for any sign of further trouble. After a few seconds or hours, neither of them knew, Alec put the glass on a side table. He then brought both hands up to his face and after rubbing his eyes, run his fingers through his hair in that gesture that Magnus remembered with such longing during those long months of absence. He then opened his eyes and looked back at Magnus with a sudden expression of dawning recognition. “I do know you,” he stated, not a thread of doubt in his voice. “I don’t know how, but I do.” 

“I don’t…” Magnus started to say, his tone tentative. _Don’t say anything,_ a small voice spoke in his mind. 

“And, you know me too,” Alec interrupted, his voice acquiring more and more conviction. “You called me by my name, just now, outside. You did, I am sure of it.” 

“I don’t know what you think you heard,” Magnus started to say once again, “but you are mistaken, we don’t…” In his mind, he was loudly cursing himself for his hasty and panicky reaction out in the hallway. 

“Don’t deny it,” Alec interjected once again, his voice now acquiring a tone of frustration. “I am not imagining it. I have been in this apartment before, I have sat on this same couch, I made breakfast in that kitchen. I know I did. I mean I don’t remember all the details and the order is fussy, but I am not imagining it.” The last words were colored with a tone of uncertainty as if, despite what he was saying, he was not completely sure he was not imagining things. “You are Magnus Bane and we know each other. I am not crazy,” he added as if trying to convince himself more than Magnus. 

“I did not say that you were crazy, just confused,” Magnus tried to reason. 

“I am not confused!” Alec squeezed his head with both hands, trying to contain the flow of memories, images and sensations that continued to obscure all other thoughts. He knew that he sounded crazy, that at that moment, he sounded nothing like the Shadowhunter he had trained to become. He needed to get a grip, gather his thoughts, sound reasonable and rational, so he could figure out what was going on, but he couldn’t. “Did you do this to me? Is this the result of a spell or a curse?” He asked because that was the only explanation that his confused mind could come up with.  

“Why did you come here?” Magnus asked by way of an answer. He could not bear the accusatory tone of Alec’s last words, the thought that Alec would think that Magnus, had taken his memories; or perhaps he thought that he was somehow making him see things. The accusations cut him, but then, he had to remember that, by all intent and purposes, he was a stranger to Alec, a stranger in a world of shadows, monsters, and demons. The suspicion made perfect sense in the mind and world of a Shadowhunter. 

Magnus tried to keep his voice from showing the unsettlement and panic he felt. He needed to find out what had happened and why was the whole house of cards shaking and about to collapse. He was also worried that Alec was too pale, something had gone terribly wrong with him. Was he getting sick again? Was he having a panic attack?  Was whatever was causing Alec to be so pale a sign that Zadkiel was about to renege on their deal? He needed to know what had precipitated this moment. He needed to know what Alec knew without him, Magnus, divulging something that would put Alec in more danger. 

“My brother and sister were talking about you coming back to the city,” Alec started to say, the effort to keep the anxiety and frustration out of his voice clearly visible. “Izzy was telling Jace – that’s my brother, but I suspect that you know that already – that he needed to tell me that you were back. They were arguing and did not notice when I walked in the room.” 

Jace’s face had gone completely white when he turned and came face to face with Alec. “It is nothing,” he had tried to say, with a dismissing tone, a tone that failed to disguise the panic that had crept into his voice, “stuff related to the wedding.” But Alec knew that something was wrong, that Jace was keeping something from him. He had felt Jace’s sharp intake of air and the tension that had suddenly stiffen his back when he had realized that Alec was standing behind him. He had not only seen it; he had felt it thought their parabatai rune, and now the expression on Jace’s face and the way in which Izzy was avoiding his eyes and nervously shifting from foot to foot was confirming his suspicion. His brother was suddenly terrified and nothing ever terrified Jace. 

Alec had gazed from Jace to Izzy and saw in his sister’s face something that he could only describe as a mixture of fear, anger, and relief. Izzy was frustrated with Jace, which was something that had become a common condition of their relationship. Many times, in the last several months, Alec had seen them quietly but heatedly argue, or had walked into one of their loud quarrels, Izzy always making the same accusation, that Jace was not a good brother. Sometimes Izzy went days without speaking to Jace. But every time that Alec tried to intervene and mediate, both Jace and Izzy told him that it was nothing, just routine sibling stuff. 

“I don’t believe you,” Alec had said, turning from Izzy to Jace. “Something is going on with the two of you and has been going on for a while. It is time, you tell me what it is.” 

“Alec, it is nothing,” Jace had insisted, but Izzy’s face had told him that the opposite was true. 

“If it is nothing, then there is no reason not to tell me.”  

“Come on Jace,” Izzy had finally said with an exasperated sigh and an unmistakably frustrated glance at Jace. “Don’t keep doing this; he has the right to know.” 

“Now you must tell me,” Alec had interrupted Jace before he came up with another excuse. “Who is coming and why do I need to know?” 

After a long moment of silence in which Jace had looked at his feet, trying, Alec suspected, to make up his mind, he looked up at Alec. “Come brother; there is something I have to show you.” 

Alec had followed Jace to his old bedroom, the one that he had occupied before he and Clary got engaged and began to share the same bed. The room still contained some of Jace’s belongings, his old bed, some weapons and books for which there was no room in his new shared accommodations. Jace walked to his desk and opened a drawer and from it extracted a thick sheet of white paper, folded in three. The Lightwood sigil was clearly visible, sealing the document and making whatever it contained official. 

“Believe me when I say, brother, that I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t,” Jace had stated as he placed the document in Alec’s hand. “I made a vow, and I fear the consequences of breaking it.” He had then walked out of the room leaving Alec holding the paper and looking at his departing figure with a puzzled expression. 

“It took me a long time to find out who you were and where you lived,” Alec now told Magnus, his eyes fixed on the warlock, his gaze that penetrating gaze that Magnus was sure could extract the truth from a rock. Magnus feared that Alec was seeing right into the deepest corners of his soul, that his whole life was exposed. “Your information had mysteriously been removed from the Institute’s records. I had to call a few people.” 

 _No one can say that Zadkiel is not thorough_ , Magnus thought, as he gazed down at his feet avoiding Alec’s eyes for fear of what his own face would betray. Magnus was not surprised by Izzy’s loyalty or by her fierce determination and commitment to the truth. He was surprised by Jace; he had thought that he would keep the secret. After all, he knew as well as Magnus what was at stake. He had to give it to Alec’s brother, however, he had managed to let just enough of the truth come out without actually saying anything. 

“I did not know what to expect when I came here,” Alec continued when Magnus did not say anything, “but when you walked out of the elevator, I thought I saw something familiar in you. And then your eyes changed – it is your warlock mark, isn’t it? – and a rush of images suddenly gushed all at once into my mind, and somehow I thought, or perhaps I knew, that you and I were not strangers to each other, that there must be a reason why I named you in a will I don’t even remember writing.” Alec brought a fist to his forehead and pressed, the fist that still gripped the will. It was as if he was trying to knock some sense into his thoughts, or perhaps push the will into his brain in an attempt to jog his memory. “Sorry,” he said, looking at Magnus once again and giving him an apologetic smile that melted Magnus’ heart even more. “My head is pounding.” 

“Can I get you anything for the pain?” Magnus asked. He wanted so much to comfort Alec, to tell him that he was not imagining things, but fear stopped him. 

“Have you ever watched a video that has been recorded on top of an older recording and the old images blend with the new ones?” Alec asked. “That is how my head feels right now. I look at you and I see ghosts of other you’s, you with other expressions, doing or saying other things. You used to have short and spiky hair and wear make-up, didn’t you? I look at this place and I see ghosts of other times when I have been here before. I feel my head is going to explode. Do you know what is happening to me?” 

“I don’t, I am sorry,” Magnus replied because that was the only thing he could think to say. He detested seeing Alec’s pained expression and be so helpless to do anything. 

“Please, please don’t tell me that I am imagining things,” Alec said, his tone a plea. 

The plea, the desperation in Alec’s voice, and the look of confusion and despair clouding his lovely face ultimately overpowered Magnus’ determination and broke through the fear that had paralyzed him. “Oh Alexander,” he finally said, the words coming out in a sigh that seemed to originate in the deepest part of his soul. Letting go of the last thread of resistance, he took a step closer and came to sit beside Alec, his hands folded on his lap itching to reach and touch the Shadowhunter. 

Alec turned and looked deep into his eyes, and for a moment or two, neither of them said anything, Alec because he was trying to organize his thoughts so he could formulate a coherent idea, and Magnus because he could not yet believe that he was here, sitting beside Alec, so near that he could feel the heat emanating from his body and perceive his unmistakable scent. Slowly, tentatively and almost by instinct, Alec raised a hand and started to reach for Magnus. But he stopped himself half way, not sure of what to do, or why he felt such a need to run a finger along the lines of the warlock’s face. His thoughts were a jumble of confusion and his emotions were not doing much better. He closed his hand in a tight fist and forced it back down to his lap.  “You always called me Alexander, not Alec like everybody else. I think I remember that about you.” 

“Yes, I did,” Magnus replied with a smile. He tried to push down the disappointment that the halted movement of Alec’s hand had filled him with. He would have given anything to feel Alec’s familiar touch once again. However, he knew it was for the best, that he needed to proceed with caution, that he needed to keep his answers short, so not to overwhelm Alec. Alec touching him now would have certainly ruined that plan. 

“But sometimes I think you also called me Shadowhunter.” Alec could see it now, the ghost of an image, both of them sitting on this same sofa, their hands interlaced, Magnus whispering the term of endearment in his ear. The image was so intimate that the color rose to Alec’s face and when he looked back at Magnus, he saw the same blush reflected on the warlock’s expression. “Were we in a relationship?” Alec asked when Magnus remained silent, the question tentative. 

Magnus’ response was a deep sigh and a faint nod, the past tense feeling wrong in Alec’s lips and hitting a nerve. For he had never stopped being in a relationship with Alec; for he had loved Alec every second of every day they had been apart; for there had never and will never be anyone else with whom he wanted to be in a relationship. Yet now he was a stranger to Alec, someone from a past that Alec no longer remembered, part of a memory Alec could not completely trust. 

Magnus’ expression and response stirred something in Alec’s chest, an aching, a feeling of regret he could not yet comprehend. Too many things were happening all at once; too many emotions; too many unanswered questions. How serious had the relationship been? Had the warlock loved him? Did he love him still?  Too many questions, too many unclear images, too much confusion. “What happened? Did you make me forget?” he asked out loud, fearing but also needing the answer. 

“No,” Magnus replied, the question stinging anew, “it wasn’t me. I would never do that to you.” 

“What happened then?” 

“Things happened; things that were out of our control.” Magnus made a superhuman effort to keep the full weight of his sorrow from the words. Alec was not ready for the whole truth and perhaps he would never be. After all, he had not lived all this time with the loss with which Magnus had lived. 

“Come on Magnus,” Alec stated, “I cannot be certain, but I think I remember you being a lot less economical with your words.” He was trying to mask his increasing frustration with Magnus’ reluctance to give him a straight answer by imbuing his words with a casual tone. “Can you perhaps stop it with the enigmatic and one-word answers?” 

Hearing his name in Alec’s lips, the playful way in which his tongue seemed to wrap around his name, gave Magnus more joy than he thought possible to contain in a small heart like his. Unable to stop himself, he smiled broadly for the first time in what felt like forever, the joy invading his heart and erasing the sorrow of a moment ago. He felt like he was in a rollercoaster that kept plummeting him into the deepest of sorrows one second and lifting him to the highest of joys the next. Alec had just called him Magnus, his name sounding all new in the Shadowhunter’s lips, as if by just using it, Alec was bringing him back to life, erasing all fear and all sadness. Alec calling him by his name was almost worth all the months of suffering and absence. “I need a coffee; do you need one?” Magnus asked by way of an answer as he stood up, not wanting Alec to see the effect he was having on him. Alec did not need to deal with Magnus’ feelings in addition to everything else. When he saw the frustration in Alec’s face, he paused and put both hands up, palms facing Alec in a conciliatory gesture. “If we are going to have this conversation, I need coffee and I have to make a call.” 

“Oh, I am sorry,” Alec responded suddenly self-conscious. “You just arrived and must be tired or have things to do, and here I am taking up all your time. I should go,” he added as he made to stand up, “I can come back at a better time.” 

Magnus thought that for sure his heart would explode now, unable to contain so much tenderness. He was also certain that his lips would split if he continued smiling ever more broadly. In fact, he was pretty sure he had never smiled with such joy ever before in his very long life. He had forgotten how endearing Alec sounded when he thought that he was imposing on Magnus’ time or invading his space. He had forgotten Alec’s tendency to believe that he was not important enough for Magnus to put him before anything else. He wished he could wrap his arms around Alec’s neck right now, kiss him, and tell him that there could never be anyone else he would prefer to be with. “Relax, Alexander and sit down,” he said instead. “This will only take a minute. I just need to let Catarina know that I arrived.” 

“I am sorry Magnus; I could not keep lying to Alec.” Jace’s voice over the phone sounded anxious in addition to apologetic. Magnus had started the coffee maker and, after checking on Alec one more time to make sure he was still relatively okay, had walked out onto the terrace. After leaving the briefest of messages on Catarina’s voicemail, he had dialed Jace, renewed anxiety and fear filling his chest now that he was no longer under the spell of Alec’s gaze. 

“We had a deal Jace,” he argued. “Do you know the risk we are taking?” 

“You have not had to live with him this past year Magnus,” Jace responded. “You have not had to see him stumble through life as if he was missing something fundamental, something essential to his survival. You have not had to keep a secret from your parabatai.” 

“Well, we know why that was, don’t we?” Magnus’ words sounded sharper than he had intended. It was just that there was so much at stake, he had given up so much, and the terrible danger of the situation had suddenly hit him anew. Alec’s life and safety might be at stake; everything they had risked might be on the line once again.

“I am sorry,” Jace said once again. “But you said it yourself, he is remembering on his own, without you telling him anything. We have not broken any deal.” 

“That is semantics Jace. I don’t think Zadkiel will accept that explanation.” 

“You need to have faith that Alec will come through this. He is strong, healthier than he had been in years. Magnus, we owe him the truth now that he knows that something happened. He deserves it. We should have never made that deal without Alec’s consent.” Jace sounded regretful and the weight of the burden he had left Jace to bear hit Magnus. All these months he had thought that only him was paying the price for what they had both done to save Alec, but now he understood that Jace had also had to bear the burden. What was worse, Jace had had to keep that burden from the closest person to him. The effort to hide something like this from his parabatai must have been extensive. 

“We did not have a choice Jace.” 

“But we do now Magnus. Tell him the truth; don’t let him continue living with a sense of loss he cannot explain. We will deal with whatever consequences, the three of us.” 

“When did you start sounding so mature and sensible?” Magnus asked. 

“Didn’t you hear? I grew up, I have a fiancé and everything,” Jace responded, his voice betraying the same sarcastic tone of times gone by. 

Magnus hanged up the phone and walked back into the kitchen. He found Alec there, his back turned to him, searching for something in the refrigerator. Magnus watched him in silence for a second, both to ascertain that he was, in fact, real and not a figment of his imagination and that he was not about to keel over once again. 

“I am sorry,” Alec said once he turned and found Magnus watching him. A rush of color rose to his cheeks and he smiled a little embarrassed. “The coffee was ready, and suddenly I knew that in the morning you liked cream and honey in yours, is that right?” he added setting a bottle of half and half on the counter where a jar of honey already waited. “I thought you might also be hungry; I am. I spent the whole night first searching for you and then waiting out in the hallway.” 

“I am hungry,” Magnus replied. 

“In that case, Magnus, how about toast?” Alec asked and Magnus’ heart swelled to a record size. Never in a million years, he had imagined that he would hear his name on Alec’s lips again, not once but twice, or see his tall and slim figure standing in his kitchen, offering breakfast. 

“So, did my brother give you permission to answer my questions?” Alec demurely asked, turning towards the counter and sticking a bagel in the toaster. “I assume you called him. I hope he is not in too much trouble with you.” 

Magnus set himself in one of the kitchen stools, rested his hands on the counter, and resignedly sighed. “Alexander, please understand that Jace and I we trying to protect you; that we did not have any other choice.” 

“I was dying, wasn’t I?” Alec asked, his expression eager. “Is whatever happened to me the result of the demon pox?” 

The sun had already begun to make its way down to the horizon when Alec finally asked his last question. At some time during their conversation, they had moved back to the living room and were now sitting at opposite sides of the coffee table, Alec on one of the armchairs and Magnus on the sofa. Their third cups of coffee rested half-finished on the table beside the empty plates were toasted bagels with butter and jam had been served. Magnus had answered all of Alec’s questions, not omitting any details, but not offering more information than what Alec requested. He did not want to overwhelm Alec and was still reluctant to disclose too much. It was clear that Alec was trying to piece things together in his mind, trying to first validate and then organize the memories that had so abruptly begun to come back to him. Magnus had mostly helped Alec fill in the blanks; that is, until Alec asked about what happened when he had been unconscious and dying from demon poisoning: the advance of the demon pox, Asmodeus’s refusal to help; the bargain Magnus and Jace had made with Zadkiel, and the price they had to pay. 

Perhaps because he did not jet remember or perhaps because he was not ready to go there yet, Alec had strategically skipped over any questions that were too personal, intimate, or that had to do with the nature of their relationship. He had not asked about the feelings they had for one each other either. He had asked mostly factual questions: how the two of them had met, battles they had fought, places they had visited. Magnus had to admire Alec’s verbal maneuvering, his capacity to ask about things that were personal without actually asking whether they had been in love or what they had meant to each other.  On his part, Magnus did not offer any more details than what Alec asked for, even though he wanted with all his heart to tell him how much he had needed him all these past months, how much he still loved him and how happy he was to be sitting here, looking at his young face. 

Alec did not ask again about the will or about the Lightwood ring that still hung from the chain around Magnus’ neck. Asking that questions would mean crossing the lines towards the too personal. Perhaps Alec thought that the ring had been an offering in recognition for what Magnus had done to cure him of the pox; perhaps he thought that the ring had been a gift by a lovesick boy to a boyfriend that had left him, Magnus did not know and did not dare ask. 

Magnus did not mention the will or the ring either. Neither did he mention the deal that Alec had made with Asmodeus and that caused their breakup. _Patience is the best strategy_ , Magnus thought _patience and prudence_. _Let Alec set the pace at which he can handle the information;_ _let him determine how much he wants or needs to know_. 

When Alec finally run out of questions, he fell silent and for a long while gazed out the window towards the New York skyline gleaming in the afternoon sun, loss in thought, fitting together fragments of memories with the information Magnus had shared as if they were pieces of a gigantic puzzle. He thought that he should be overwhelmed, that too much was happening at the same time, but for some reason, he didn’t. On the contrary, he felt like things were finally beginning to make sense, that for the first time in a long time, he, himself, was beginning to make sense. 

He did not know how long he was lost in contemplation, it must have been a while because when he turned to look back at Magnus, he found that the warlock had fallen asleep on the couch, his head resting on his arm, his legs folded, his breathing even. 

Alec watched Magnus sleep, taking advantage of the opportunity to stare without feeling self-conscious or making Magnus uncomfortable. He thought that Magnus looked young when he slept, his face and figure barely those of a man in his mid-twenties. With his eyes closed, the sorrowful expression that was the only part that did not match Alec’s recollections, was no longer visible. The absence of make-up was new, he thought. Yet, for some reason, this did not make Magnus a stranger, perhaps because Alec had seen Magnus without it before. The long hair was new too, but Alec liked it. 

Without meaning to, he began to imagine what it would be like to run his fingers through that long hair, to lose the string that held it together and let that hair cascade down Magnus’ back or down his face and then onto Alec. The thought called on other images and thoughts, thoughts of Alec feeling protected, contained and safe in the shelter of Magnus’ arms, thought of Magnus’ lips drawing a path down Alec’s neck, thought of Magnus’ fingers drawing circles on his skin. The thought stirred something in Alec, something that had been dormant or perhaps even dead, but that Magnus had somehow brought back to life. 

Magnus had had feelings for him; Alec was pretty certain of it. He had not come out and say it outright, but he had gone to a terrible extreme, put himself in terrible peril, for Alec. No one took the risk of summoning an angel if they were not desperate. He could understand why Jace would do that; he and his brother were irremediably linked together. Alec’s death would have made Jace feel that a part of himself he had died too. But Magnus, Magnus did not have to do what he did, not even to prevent Alec from turning into a monster. No, love was the only reasonable explanation for what Magnus had done. Now, as he watched Magnus sleep, Alec wondered whether he too had loved him with the same intensity and whether he loved him still even if he did not remember everything about him or their relationship. Perhaps he had loved Magnus even when he did not know he existed. Perhaps love could explain the terrible emptiness and longing he had felt all these months. 

 _Too soon and too much all at the same time_ ; _too many things to consider before even going there,_ Alec thought as he forced his mind to file those questions away for the moment. Magnus had been gone for a whole year, and Alec did not know yet how much he could trust his own feelings and memories of the warlock. In fact, he was not even sure he, Alec, was the same man that he had been a year ago. He needed time, he realized, as he stood up, quietly walked towards Magnus’ work table and, finding pen and paper, wrote a short note for when Magnus woke up.

 

* * *

  

The sound of a phone’s insistent ringing brought Magnus back from the sleeping world hours later. For a moment, he did not know where he was because when he opened his eyes, he did not see the stars under which he had slept during his whole time away, and he seemed to be lying on a soft surface rather than on hard ground. The ringing was also a noise he had not heard in a long time. Still half asleep, he fumbled for the source of the annoying noise. “Hello” he answered, his voice scratchy and heavy with sleep. 

“Finally,” a female voice said at the other end of the line. 

“Catarina?” Magnus asked as he rubbed the sleep off his eyes, trying to force his mind to concentrate. 

“Who else has your new phone number?” Caterina responded; his dry tone unmistakable. “Don’t tell me you have already been using your new phone to pick up strangers?” 

“I am sorry, I was sleeping. The jetlag and the time difference got the better of me.” 

“Obviously,” his friend stated. “Anyway, I got your message. I was planning to come over and check on you, perhaps bring dinner.” 

The memory of the last few surprising hours rushed back. Startled, Magnus sat up and looked around the room, searching without meaning to for Alec. The room returned him only empty and silent darkness. His heart sank a little and for a moment, Magnus wondered whether he had been dreaming, whether he had imagined the last few hours, Alec standing at his door, Alec’s offering breakfast with a smile, Alec asking him to fill in the blanks in his memory. 

“Magnus?” Catarina’s voice brought him back to the here and now. 

“That would be lovely, Catarina; I will see you soon.” 

After hanging up the phone, Magnus looked around the room once again, taking stock of the place that had been his home for so many years, the place that until a few hours ago had been full of Alec’s presence. He stood up and stretched, oxygen rushing into his system and washing away the remaining drowsiness. He walked to the kitchen sink for a glass of water, and a broad unguarded smile curved his lips because there he saw the plates and cups they had used at breakfast, washed and neatly resting on the drying rack. It was just like his old Alexander, he thought, to do the dishes and tidy up. After filling a glass with water, he turned and a piece of paper on the counter caught his attention. When he picked it up, Alec’s unmistakable writing made his heart flip in his chest. 

 _Thank you for answering my questions,_ the note read _. I realize you were tired from your long journey, so I did not want to wake you to tell you in person. I am sorry I kept you up._

The note was signed with Alec Lightwood and below it, Alec had written his phone number. Magnus read the note a few times, the formality of the signature, and the phone number underneath it, filling Magnus with a muddle of emotions. Was Alec’s trying to put a respectful distance between them, trying to tell him that Magnus needed to think of him only as Alec Lightwood from now on? But then why include the phone number? Was it an invitation for Magnus to call him, to close the distance? 

 _By the Angel_ , Magnus thought, exasperated by his own tendency to send himself on useless rollercoasters of speculations. _The poor man just found out that a whole part of his life has been erased from his memory. Give him time._  

As he put the note back on the counter, Magnus decided that he would not call Alec, that like he had done when they first met, he would not pressure him. Alec had lost a lot; he deserved taking all the time in the world to figure himself out. And, if after all was said and done, Alec decided that he could not go back to how things were before, Magnus would respect his decision. As he had originally planned, he would leave and let Alec build a life for himself without having to deal with Magnus reminding him of a half-remembered past he preferred to leave behind. 

Magnus walked through his apartment, taking stock of the pieces of art, the furniture and the mementos he had collected over the centuries, getting reacquainted with his old life. In the bookcase, in the place where he usually kept it, he found the box containing the mementos of the people with whom he had shared a life before. He opened it and gently run his fingers through those little pieces of past lives he had carried and so fiercely protected for centuries. During an argument, Alec had told him that perhaps one day a piece of him would live in that box. The argument sounded so trivial and remote now as if it had been a lifetime ago, and perhaps it was. Closing the box, Magnus thought that there could never be a place big enough to keep all the feelings and all memories he had of Alec, all the moments of joy and sorrow and all the regret he would carry for all eternity. 

Magnus had thought that returning to this place would perhaps make him want to do magic again. But the place did not feel like home anymore and his magic felt as unnecessary here as it had felt during his travels. _Time_ , he thought, give it time and he wasn’t sure if he meant that he needed the time or that he needed to give Alec time.

 

* * *

 

For three whole days, Alec stayed away. During that time, he tried to continue his routine as usual. He also tried not to think too much about Magnus, convinced that he needed time to sort out what he wanted to do next. Perhaps this was the universe giving him a second chance to reevaluate his life, to think things through in a mature, dispassionate and rational manner. He was a Nephilim, part of a traditionalist and close-minded society, and Alec thought that perhaps he should just conform, pretend that nothing had changed. After all, everyone around him had managed to do as much during the whole year in which fate had pushed him back into the closet. 

For three days, he went about his work trying with all his might to not think of Magnus. Every time the image of the warlock popped into his head, he pushed it down, and every time he felt the uncontrollable need to go see Magnus, he found something else with which to occupy himself. When the images and the conflicting emotions did not let him sleep, which was almost every night, he paced the corridors of the Institute, engaged in an endless and heated debate with himself on the virtue of thinking things through and not acting hastily. Yet, during those brief hours of sleep, he dreamt of Magnus, the cat eyes that for so long had occupied his dreams now part of a perfectly discernible young face smiling at him, beckoning him. Every time, he woke up with his heart in his mouth and all the reasons to stay away from Magnus that he had come up with the day before were suddenly useless. 

When during a morning staff meetings, one of the Shadowhunters related reports of the Brooklyn warlocks holding secrets meetings, of an envoy sent by the Spiral Labyrinth, of investigations and possible disciplinary actions, and of potential changes in leadership, Alec silently listened, recorded the information in his computer, and did not offer any comments. 

For three days Jace watched his brother in silence, trying not to interfere with Alec’s decision, giving him the space and time that he needed to sort out his emotions, fearful of the recriminations that Alec was yet to verbalize. However, after three days, he could not hold his tongue anymore. “Are you going to do anything about Magnus?” he finally asked when he walked into Alec’s office on the fourth day. Jace knew that once the mess with Lorenzo was sorted out, Magnus would likely leave New York again, and he did not want Alec to miss the opportunity to figure out his relationship to the warlock before it was too late. 

“What do you mean?” Alec asked, hoping that Jace would not notice the way his heart had jumped at the mention of the warlock. “He seems to be bringing order back to the New York warlock community. Isn’t that what we have been asking the Spiral Labyrinth to do for the past several months?” 

“You know that is not what I am talking about.” 

Alec sighed, leaned back on his chair and looked at his brother, resigned to have the conversation that for days he had been avoiding. “What do you want me to do? This whole thing is just too messed up. What am I expected to do after a whole year in which I did not remember a whole part of my life? I mean I don’t even know what I remember anymore, what is real and what is just my imagination.” 

“Make up for the lost time, at the very least,” Jace replied. 

“I don’t know. Aren’t things better for everybody the way they are? I mean my parents and you and the whole institute were perfectly happy with me not remembering Magnus. Doesn’t that tell you anything?” Suddenly, the frustration, anger, and sadness he had been trying to keep in check washed over him. “For a whole year no one said anything, everyone went about their lives as if nothing had happened, perhaps relieved that they did not have to deal with the Shadowhunter and his warlock boyfriend. Heck, even that angel – whatever his name is – was so against that relationship that demanded it ended.” 

Alec knew that he was being unfair and perhaps even unreasonable. Jace had been part of the deception because Alec’s life was a stake. His parents were old-fashioned, had obviously struggled with his choices, and would have paid any price for Alec’s safety. Yet, he could not help feeling that he had been robbed of something important, cheated out of something fundamental to his happiness and survival. All this time, something had been missing in his life, something crucial, something that perhaps was now within his reach once again. But, for some reason, he did not know what to do. He was afraid, afraid that things would never be the same again, afraid that too much had been lost.    

“Oh Alec,” Jace said, his face reflecting the sorrow that filled his heart. “I am sorry I did not tell you. As I explained, I was bounded by a secret vow, and Magnus and I were trying to keep you alive. But now you have the chance of making your life right again.” 

“Do I?” 

“Alec, this past year I have seen you miss Magnus, even when you did not know who you were missing. Don’t tell me your life does not make more sense now that you know.” 

“But would my life be better, would life be easier if things went back to the way they were?” Alec was putting into words a question that for the last three days he had constantly repeated in his mind. “And how do I know that things would go back to the way they were? I mean I don’t even know how things were really like. A whole year had gone by; life goes on, Jace.” 

“Alexander Lightwood, are you afraid that Magnus had stopped loving you?” Jace asked with a tone of incredulity. “Because I don’t think that is possible. Or, is it that you doubt your own feelings?” 

“I don’t know what I feel, how am I supposed to know how he feels? Half the time, I don’t even know what is real anymore.” 

“I have never seen you happier or more yourself than during the time you were with Magnus,” Jace stated. “It took a lot of courage for you to recognize who you were, and then a lot more to live your life openly. I was proud of you; don’t go back into the closet, Alec. You owe it to yourself.” 

“There is so much in my mind that is still unclear,” Alec replied. “I don’t know if I can trust my memory.” 

“You don’t have to trust your memory, Alec; you have to trust your heart. I told you once that you cannot help who you love. It took for Clary to come into my life for me to learn that. I have loved her through all the ups and downs of our relationship, even when I thought she was my sister. Even if you don’t yet remember everything, trust me when I say that it was the same for you and Magnus. You have nothing to prove to anyone; nor do you owe anyone anything, not me, not our parents, not even Magnus. So, don’t decide based on what you think people want, and please, please, do not base your decisions on what you think the Clave considers proper or moral. They too will have to catch up to the times eventually; don’t sacrifice your life and happiness for them.” 

That evening, Magnus was finishing yet another long-drawn phone conversation with one of the city’s warlocks when his doorbell rang. He was so preoccupied with the troubles that Lorenzo Ray had brought down on the New York warlock community and with all the work he still had to do before leaving that he did not have time to wonder who could be at his door. However, as soon as he opened, all concerns and all thoughts of work and Lorenzo disappeared from his mind, for there at his doorsteps was Alec, a nervous expression on his face. 

Magnus knew that he should have some smart remark to say, a coy, flirtatious or even snarky comment, but his mind went suddenly completely blank. Alec did not seem to know what to say either, for he just stared at Magnus with those intense eyes that seemed to see everything and miss nothing. The only coherent thought that was able to break through the muddle in Magnus’ mind was that he had somehow forgotten how tall Alec was, but even that thought did not last. For without preamble, warning or explanation, Alec reached and grabbed Magnus’ hand in his, and fixing him with even more intensity with those big brown eyes, took a step closer. 

After an unknown period of time in which they silently looked into each other eyes, Alec shifted his gaze down to Magnus’s lips and Magnus thought that time had stopped, and that flutter of butterflies had suddenly come alive in the pit of his stomach and were now swarming around his heart. A feeling that was a mixture of exited anticipation, surprise and fear invaded him: fear that he was imagining that Alec was at his doorsteps, surprise because he could not believe that the person he had been waiting for was finally here, and anticipation because the touch of Alec’s hand and the intensity of his gaze had awoken desires he had tried hard to keep in check. 

After a second or a century of charged silence, in which the air between him and Magnus became more and more electrified, Alec finally surrendered, no longer able to keep his feelings and desire contained, no longer caring about the past or the future, caring only about this intense moment, the feel of Magnus’ hand in his, the familiar scent of Magnus’ skin, the fire coming alive in Magnus’ eyes, and the way his Adam’s apple moved up and down Magnus’ exquisitely long neck. The breath caught in Alec’s throat in response to Magnus’ intake of air, and unable to bear the longing and need any longer, and with not as much as a word, he closed the remaining distance that separated him from Magnus. His lips found the lips of the warlock and the sweetness of those lips, their slightly wet texture, their perfect softness and fullness, their incredible taste obscured everything else, and erased all hesitation and doubt. As if by its own accord, his free hand reached and found Magnus’ waist and with a strength that surprised him, Alec pulled the warlock closer, the feel of that muscular body, new and familiar at the same time, so enticing that Alec feared his legs would give out and he would collapse against Magnus. 

An uncontrollable need soon replaced surprise in Magnus, and not able to help himself, reached with his free hand for Alec’s cheek. The sensation of Alec’s skin, warm and soft, was indescribable, and the way in which his lips seemed to melt and fused with Magnus’ lips was maddening. All fear and caution forgotten, and answering Alec’s silent invitation, Magnus parted his lips and the scent and taste of Alec invaded his senses. The parting of his lips seemed to awake something in Alec, and he pulled Magnus even closer, and, unbelievably, the kiss became even more intense and heated. As if by instinct, Alec let his tongue leave his mouth and trace the warlock’s lips, and Magnus thought he was losing his mind, that he was losing himself, that his body was disappearing and fusing into Alec’s body. 

Suddenly, there was nothing for Alec but the feel of Magnus against him, the strength of his hand in his own, and the touch of his long fingers against his face. And, nothing else existed for Magnus except for the incredible feel of Alec’s tongue exploring him, the strength of his arm around his waist, pulling him closer and closer and inviting him to get lost in the taste and feel of him. 

All thoughts fled from Alec’s mind – all the doubts, memories, images and questions that had filled his mind in the last few days – and suddenly, he was no longer trying to piece together the puzzle of his missing memories. Instead, he reached with his primal senses and let his tongue taste Magnus, his fingers feel his skin, his ears hear his racing heart and his nose inhale the incredibly familiar scent of bergamot and mountain air on the warlock’s skin. As his senses became keenly aware of the body and soul of the warlock, the rest of Alec also came alive with recognition. The feel of Magnus’ strong abdomen against his own, the beating of Magnus’ heart against his own chest, the indescribable sensation of Magnus’ whole body against his own seemed to unlock his body memory. As he recognized Magnus with his instincts rather than with his reason, Alec felt like he was finally coming to port, that in the past year, he had been a vessel lost in a gale, or perhaps the lonely survivor of a shipwreck, but that now he had finally found calm winds and land. Magnus was his port, the place where he belonged. With Magnus, he was home.  

Neither of them knew how long their kiss lasted; time did not matter, or perhaps the kiss had transported them to a dimension in which time did not exist, in which nothing but the two of them existed. When after a while their lips reluctantly came apart, Alec continued holding Magnus by the waist and Magnus rested his forehead against Alec’s, as their breathings slowly settled. 

“I do know you,” Alec said, finally recovering his capacity for speech, his voice soft and a little husky. Magnus’ reply was a broad and luminous smile, the most beautiful smile Alec had ever seen. 

Noticing for the first time that they were still standing by the open door, and not wanting to scandalize the neighbors, Magnus gently pulled Alec inside and closed the door. Yet, they did not make it much farther than the foyer, for Alec was not done kissing him yet, and Magnus was not done tasting Alec. This time, it was Magnus the one to wrap his arm around Alec’s waist and he the one to pull him closer and closer until not even an atom fitted between them. It was now Magnus the one to entice Alec to part his lips so his own tongue could survey Alec’s mouth. Alec reached with his free hand and placed it behind Magnus’ neck and with his long fingers drew swirling lines down his neck and along his jawline. After another unmeasured period of time and reluctantly, Magnus left Alec’s lips and began a slow but oh so enticing journey towards his ear. “I missed you so much Shadowhunter,” he whispered once there, and Alec’s skin responded by coming alive in thousands in goosebumps. He smiled against the Alec’s ear, and then continued on a slow expedition down his neck, letting the scent of Alec filled his nostrils until his head swam from so much pleasure. 

 

* * *

  

“You spent a whole year camping?” Alec asked hours later, his voice full of wonder, his eyes shining with a new sparkle. They did not remember how but they had finally made it to the sofa. But now, Alec was half sitting and half lying, his back against the couch’s arm, and Magnus was settled in between his legs, his back against Alec’s chest. Alec’s arms were wrapped around Magnus and he felt sheltered and secure. 

“I did,” Magnus replied. “I never planned to go there or to stay that long. It just happened.” In between long and slow kisses, Alec had asked him about his year of traveling in Australia and New Zealand, and Magnus had regaled him with stories of sleeping under the stars, in the shelter of the Uluru, and by the Tongarino Lake. He had told him of days spent on horseback, of climbing mountains and volcanoes, of lying on a dry red ground and falling asleep under the stars. He had left out the fact that he had spent every waking and sleeping hour aching for Alec, missing him with every fiber of his being.  Alec did not need to know that, not until his memories completely returned, which perhaps would be never. 

“That must have been incredible,” Alec said and wrapped his arms more firmly around Magnus. 

Magnus turned and looked at Alec and another smile curved his lips, for none of his adventures could compare to being here. He would have preferred to spend a whole year in the shelter of Alec’s arms to an eternity of adventures. He saw that Alec’s lips were red and a little swollen from all the kissing and his hair was messy from all the times that Magnus had run his fingers through it. 

“Your lips are red,” Alec said, putting Magnus’ thoughts into words, shifting his gaze from Magnus’ eyes to his mouth in that enticing gesture which memory had kept Magnus awake on all those nights he has spent aching for Alec. He then kissed him again, the kiss too swift for Magnus’ taste. “I think I have kissed you too much.” 

“Not nearly enough,” Magnus replied, reaching and grabbing Alec by his chin and pulling him closer for another long kiss. He felt at that moment that all eternity was not enough to spend it kissing this amazing creature that fate had put back on his path. An exquisite groan mixed with a sigh escaped Alec’s lips, a sound that awoke an intense, urgent and raw desire in the pit of Magnus’ stomach. The kiss suddenly grew in intensity and the air around them seemed to shift a little, becoming even more charged and electrified. Magnus could feel a change in Alec’s breathing, and in the perceptible urgency with which he pulled him closer. It was as if Alec was lighting a match and Magnus was catching fire, and for a moment, he let himself be swept in the torrent of Alec’s passion. Alec began to run a hand across Magnus’ chest and abdomen, slowly mapping the planes and curves of his body, slowly making his way lower and lower, seeking belt buckle and the bottom of Magnus’ shirt. Magnus thought that he would lose his mind, go insane from so much wanting, from so much desire and from so much pleasure. 

Memories of Alec’s naked body moving against his own, of his own mouth exploring the darkest and most remotes corners of Alec’s skin, of Alec coming undone in his arms suddenly invaded his thoughts and awoke every cell of his body. He wanted Alec, right here and right now, no matter what the consequences, no matter what the cost. He needed Alec more than he needed the air to breathe. However, suddenly and without warning, a thought popped into his mind, a thought that sobered him and brought him back to reality. Reluctantly, he captured Alec’s wayward hands in his own to stop them from continuing their journey, afraid that if he didn’t, this brief moment of sanity would pass. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Alec asked, suddenly uncertain. 

“No Alexander, you have done everything right tonight,” Magnus replied. “Please know that I want you with every cell and atom in my body, I want you so much that I feel my heart will break if I don’t have you right now if I don’t lose myself in you. But too many things have happened for you in a short few days and we should not rush into things. I don’t want you to do anything you might not be ready to do yet.” 

“I want you Magnus,” Alec replied, an exquisite blush coloring his cheeks. The words seemed to open a hole in Magnus’ chest, a whole that threated to swallow his heart. His old Alec would have never used those words unless they followed the words ‘I love you.’ ‘I love you and I want you’ were words that were familiar to Magnus, words that always came together in Alec’s soft and husky voice, a whole package. The ‘I want you’ now in Alec’s lips sounded orphan, like an incomplete song, like a spell missing an important part. The truncated expression convinced Magnus even more that, despite his wishful thinking, things were not really the way they had been before this terrible year began, at least not yet, and perhaps not ever. 

“Me too,” Magnus said. He smiled in an attempt to disguise the mixture of sadness and disappointment in his voice. “But just four days ago, you did not remember me. Making love now would mean something different for you than for me. If and when we make love, I want us to be as close as on the same page as possible. Let’s give your memory time to catch up, okay? I am not going anywhere; neither are you I hope.” 

“I am not going anywhere,” Alec replied with a gentle and tender smile. 

“Are you hungry?” Magnus asked wanting, or rather needing, to change the subject. He reminded himself that just days ago he believed he would spend the rest of his very long life aching for Alec, missing him, feeling his absence and that now, Alec was here, in his apartment, kissing him, holding him in his arms, telling him that he wanted him. That was more than he could have hoped for; asking for more so soon would be tantamount to greediness. 

“I am,” Alec replied with a smile. 

“How about Chinese?” Magnus asked reaching for his phone.

 

* * *

  

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Alec awoke from the deepest and most restful sleep he had had in months. He was lying on his side, one arm under Magnus’ head and the other around his waist, Magnus’ sleeping face so close to his own that he felt the caress of the warlock’s soft breathing on his cheek. Magnus also had his arms wrapped around Alec, and their bodies were so close that Alec could feel every inch of his tall figure making contact with Magnus’ almost equally tall body. 

After hours of talking over shared Chinese dishes, of laughing and of Magnus telling stories of his travels during the year they had been apart, they had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, Magnus back against the back of the couch and Alec beside him, facing each other, their arms wrapped around each other’s bodies, like twins sharing the same wound. As he now shifted position slightly, Alec marveled at how two big and tall men like them could fit in such a narrow space. 

For a long while, Alec watched Magnus sleep by the light of the side lamp, committing to memory his youthful face, his perfectly shaped nose, the curb of his eyebrows and the lines of his mouth. Magnus was handsome, Alec thought, his golden skin, even more golden now after months in the outdoors, framed his eyes perfectly. During their evening together, Alec had noticed that those eyes, now closed, gleamed with naughtiness and humor that also insinuated great intelligence, cleverness, and sensitivity. He was particularly partial of those long eyelashes and of the way in which they accentuated the flirtatious sparkle of those eyes. He was also partial of that long neck that was an invitation to explore. The memory of his lips journeying down that long neck just a few hours before, licking and kissing that Adam’s apple stirred and re-awoke his desire. 

During their long evening of kissing, Alec had realized that he and Magnus had made love before. His mind might not yet remember it, but his body did. His body ached for a feeling of completion, of one-ness with Magnus, and it could only miss it if it had experienced it before. Now as he watched Magnus sleep, he was tempted to kiss that neck once again, to make his way up to Magnus’ ear and then across until he reached that perfectly shaped mouth. He wanted to explore that mouth until his kiss pulled Magnus from sleep. He wanted to undo the buttons of Magnus’ shirt, slide his hands underneath until they found skin and muscle. He wanted to explore Magnus’ body until he knew once again every inch of it, until, once and for all, the sensation of being one with Magnus returned to him all his missing memories. He wanted to kiss and caress Magnus until he silenced all of the warlock’s reasonable objections.   

He desired Magnus, there was no question about it, and Magnus desired him too. However, desire was not enough. Magnus’ words had suggested as much. They had just found each other again; it was okay to take things slowly, give himself time to sort out his feelings. Knowing that if he remained where he was, instinct would win over reason, he began to gently extricate himself from Magnus’ embrace, careful not to wake him. After stretching his aching muscles, he turned and walked towards the kitchen in search of a glass of water. 

He was gazing out the window a few minutes later, a half-empty glass in his hand, and his eyes lost in the shining lights of the skyscrapers in the distance, the memories and sensations of the last few hours still fresh in his mind. Without thinking, Alec reached into the back pocket of his jeans, the pocket in which, for the last few days, he had carried his will and testament. He unfolded the paper, now creased and wrinkled from all the times he had read and handled it. He read the words once again, his eyes barely keeping pace with his memory. After reading and re-reading the document so many times, he knew the words by heart. 

 _The only thing of true value to me is contained in this box, which, together with this sealed letter, I bequeath to the person that matters to me more than anyone in the world, more than life itself: Magnus Bane._

Alec had so many questions and the inability of his memory to provide answers frustrated him. Did Magnus still matter to him as much as he had mattered when he wrote those words? What had he meant when he wrote that he hoped that Magnus one day would see the value of what he left him? Had he broken Magnus’ heart? Had Magnus broken his? Would he ever make sense of what he had felt, or what he had thought? And did it matter if he never did? So many questions still unanswered, too many mysteries still to be resolved. Last night, Magnus had said that if they made love, it would mean different things for each of them, and Alec had to recognize that, as long as pieces of his past were missing, he may never know if they were on the same page. Yet, he wasn’t sure if that mattered. But perhaps it mattered to Magnus; perhaps Magnus would never be completely happy with him unless Alec recovered all his memories, and Magnus’ happiness was undeniably important to Alec. 

“Alexander?” Magnus’ sleepy voice brought Alec out of his reverie, and the sound of his name in Magnus’ lips pushed away his doubts, stirred new desire in the pit of his stomach, and brought a smile to his lips. A sudden impulse to erase all uncertainty from Magnus’ mind overtook him and an immense tenderness filled his heart. He thought that perhaps he may never recover all his memories, that perhaps he would never fill all the blanks, but that he would try. He would show Magnus that he was sincere in his feelings, that he was willing to spend as much time as possible building anew with him. 

“I am here,” he replied and, setting the glass on the counter, headed back to Magnus, to the secure shelter of his arms and the incredible taste of his lips.

**Leave a note and tell me what you think of this chapter.**


	9. Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death already had a firm grasp on his soul; his body had already begun to grow cold; his eyes were already closing; his lips were no longer able to form words. Death was already beckoning him and there was not enough air and not enough life to convey all his love.
> 
> This chapter contains violence, consider yourself warned.

Alec finished brushing his teeth and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. For what was likely the tenth time in the last 15 minutes, he adjusted the collar and cuffs of the black shirt Izzy had bought for him this afternoon, the garment’s newness still unfamiliar against his skin. He washed his hands and then run wet fingers through his hair and along his jawline, checking that there were no specks of shaving cream left on his face and that his usually wild hair was somewhat tamed. He smoothed the front of his shirt and for the third or fourth time in as many minutes debated whether he should tuck in or wear it loose. 

“Don’t tuck it in,” Izzy said from the bathroom door, reading his mind. Her petite figure was barely visible behind Alec’s reflection in the mirror. “The shirt; don’t tuck it in,” Izzy added in response to Alec’s puzzled expression. “It looks good untucked. You look good.” 

Alec turned, looked down at himself, smiled and said: “I feel weird. These clothes are not what I am used to.” 

“You asked me to get you something nice for your date,” Izzy responded as she appraised the button-down shirt that accentuated his brother’s upper body just enough, the charcoal jeans that hugged his hips and legs perfectly and the leather lace-up black shoes that were a welcomed reprieve from the combat boots his brother always wore. Izzy thought that she had done a fairly good job selecting the outfit considering that she had to guesstimate her brother’s measurements and that she had only a couple of hours’ notice. The whole outfit was likely worth more than Alec’s entire collection of black t-shirts, cargo pants, and functional hoodies. “Why are you so nervous?” Izzy asked. 

“I am not nervous,” Alec replied and not wanting his sister to read the truth on his face, turned back to take yet another look at his reflection. The truth was that despite having told himself countless times already that he had no reason to be, he was nervous. He was taking Magnus out on a date, a special date, and although he had thought earlier that the occasion called for an appropriate outfit, he now wished he could wear his regular Shadowhunter clothes. He felt a lot more comfortable and secure in them; this outfit felt unfamiliar as if he was trying to be someone he was not. 

“You look handsome; Magnus will be dazzled,” Izzy said with a smile. She then approached and planted a gentle and reassuring kiss on her brother’s cheek. “You will be okay; after all, this is not your first date.” She then turned and walked out of his room. 

Izzy was correct; this was not Alec and Magnus’ first date. In the last weeks, they had gone out several times. However, Alec suspected that these dates were not the only ones Izzy was referring to. She did not say it, but Alec knew she was thinking of the many dates he and Magnus had gone on before his ill-fated encounter with that Eidolon demon. 

In the last weeks, more memories had returned to slowly populate places in Alec’s mind that he had not known were empty until Jace handed him the will and he went in search of Magnus. Although Alec remembered a lot of details about his past with the warlock, and new memories returned every day, there were still empty spots, things he seemed to recall but not always with certainty. There were still times when he was not sure whether he was imagining it or whether he was remembering something that had actually happened. He was growing tired of asking Magnus and his siblings to confirm his recollections and wondered whether they were also getting tired of his questions. 

For almost everybody in his life, his relationship with Magnus was not a new or even a surprising thing. His friends and family, in fact, viewed their relationship as a continuing narrative, and their year apart as a simple interruption, a break and not a time in which Magnus was not part of Alec’s life. Yet, Alec could not help feeling that this relationship was in many ways new, a new opportunity to do things over, to start anew and rebuild. Alec was certain of one thing: even if he never recovered all his missing memories, he wanted to make new ones with Magnus, new memories to replace the ones that were still fuzzy in his mind. He wanted to make new memories of a relationship and of a man that mattered to him more and more every day, of a man that had sacrificed so much for him already. It was not gratitude or a feeling of being in debt; it was more. It was love: a love that was both old and new, a love that had old roots and new branches. 

Alec took a deep breath to calm his nerves and picking up his new jacket – another of Izzy’s purchases – walked out of his room. He made his way through the Institute’s corridors, greeting any Shadowhunters he encountered with a quiet nod. “I won’t be back tonight,” he informed the young recruit on night guard by the front door and then headed with resolute steps in the direction of the subway determined to make this night and this date with Magnus special, more special than any of their other dates. 

Since the night he knocked at Magnus’ door and the warlock let him back into his life, Alec and Magnus had been courting. Like new couples getting acquainted with one another, they had gone on dates to expensive restaurants, the movies, an outdoor concert in Central Park, and on long evening walks through the city. They had held hands and even kissed in public, something Alec did not remember doing before, not even when glamored. The warlock was special, so special that Alec felt unusually possessive. He wanted everybody to know that he, Alec, was in a relationship with that incredible, enigmatic and mysterious creature, a creature that seemed to have eyes only for him. 

Magnus, being the most experienced and knowledgeable about the mundane part of the city, had been the one to plan most of their dates, and Alec had been happy to go along and simply enjoy being out with Magnus. Tonight’s date, however, was different; tonight’s date was all Alec’s plan. He had called Magnus this morning and asked him if he wanted to go on a date with him. He had then made reservations at one of the trendiest restaurants in Manhattan and had booked a horse-drawn carriage to pick them up at the restaurant, take them on an evening stroll through the park and deliver them to the luxury hotel in which he had booked a suite overlooking Central Park. He had even asked Izzy to arrange for an overnight bag to be waiting for them. He had done all of this because he wanted to show Magnus just how important he was to him and because he wanted Magnus to know that he was ready; that he wanted to take their relationship, once again, to the next level. He wanted Magnus to know that he had no reason to doubt Alec’s feelings or his commitment. 

As he rode the subway towards Magnus’ penthouse, Alec felt a little giddy thinking of how much he had been looking forward to this Saturday night with Magnus and how much thought he had put into planning this date. Alec remembered that when they first met, Magnus had almost had to yank him kicking and screaming out of the closet. This time around, he wanted things to be different. This time, he had no doubts, concerns, or care in the world, except for making Magnus happy and solidifying their relationship. Tonight, Alec wanted to make love with Magnus and begin a new chapter in their relationship, a chapter that he hoped would be long and full of new adventures. 

In the last few weeks, Alec had thought many times of the moment when he and Magnus would make love, had imagined being in the arms of the warlock, running fingers along his skin, kissing every inch of him. He had thought of what it would feel like to offer his body to Magnus and had imagined the joy of receiving the gift of Magnus’ body. The thought had kept him awake on more than one night. It had also invaded more than one dream from which Alec had awoken with Magnus’ name on his lips and his body aching for him. He knew that they had made love before, his mind had been able to conjure up some of those memories, but for some reason, the memories felt somewhat disconnected, as if they were a film in which someone else had played his part, as if those moments of intense pleasure had happened to someone else. 

Since that night he went back to Magnus, they had taken things slow and Alec had enjoyed immensely every moment of it. He had liked courting Magnus, and having Magnus court him. Every time, he had looked at his phone and seen a new text or a call from Magnus, he had felt like his heart was doing flips in his chest. Every time, he knocked at the warlock’s door and Magnus opened, Alec had felt a jolt of anticipation and excitement that filled his heart and made him blush. After every one of their dates, they had gone back to Magnus’ apartment and had spent long hours slowly kissing, talking or simply being together. Despite the obvious desire that they both felt, neither of them had tried to take things further. Alec was and had been ready for the next step for a while, but Magnus had asked that they take their time getting to know one another again. Alec also suspected that Magnus was anxious, or perhaps fearful. He had not said as much, but Alec had seen the look of fear in Magnus’ eyes, the anxious glances that Alec could see from the corner of his eyes when Magnus thought he was not paying attention, the anxious glances that quickly disappeared every time Alec looked back.   

Alec attributed Magnus’ reluctance to the fact that his memories were still, at times, fussy. Perhaps, Magnus felt insecure, perhaps he felt, as he had said that first night, that Alec was not on the same page with him. They had shared a great love in the past and Alec wondered whether Magnus feared that Alec’s feelings were not as strong because of the year in which he lived a life in which Magnus did not exist. Tonight, Alec was determined to show Magnus how wrong he was. Tonight, he would show him that the time they had been apart, that the time in which he had been robbed of his memories, had not dampened his feelings. He would show him that he was willing to build a whole new world of memories with Magnus. Tonight, he would take Magnus to dinner and then, if Magnus agreed, to a hotel room where he would tell Magnus that he wanted nothing in the world more than to make love to him and that he hoped Magnus would want to make love to him too.  

 

* * *

  

“Coming!” Magnus called out when his doorbell rang. He took one last look at his reflection in the full-length mirror that occupied a whole wall of his walk-in closet. As he checked that the buttons of his dark red shirt were properly done up and adjusted one last time the cinch of his black silk waistcoat, he thought that it was time he gave Alec a key to his apartment. During their time apart, Alec had likely lost the key he had before, or perhaps, as with everything else, Zadkiel had made it disappear. When the doorbell rang a second time, he turned and, as he walked out, he gathered his still wet hair in the ponytail that had become his regular and most comfortable hairstyle. He thought, as he did every other day or so, that he should cut it, go back to his old hawk style. Yet, for some reason, he had grown accustomed to the long jet-black mane that now reached past his shoulders, to the ease with which he could just tie it and go, to the time he was saving now that he did not need to sculpt it, and to the space that the absence of gels and other haircare products made in his bathroom closet. Besides, Alec liked it; he had said so several times.

Alexander. Just thinking of the Shadowhunter filled Magnus with a mixture of happiness and anxiety. Having him back in his life, being back in his, made him feel like the year he had spent in the wilderness had not been a waste; that it had rather been a preamble to the second and most important stage in their relationship, to the last wonderful weeks in which he and Alec had been getting reacquainted with each other once again. Yet, he could not help fearing what might happen if Zadkiel decided that he and Jace had broken their part of the deal. 

“ _He will not remember ever meeting or loving you_ ,” Zadkiel had said, “ _and you must not remind him._ ” That had been the price of the angel’s favor. Magnus had told himself many times in the last weeks that his fears were unfounded, that Alec was remembering things on his own, that if the angel wanted to punish him, he would have done so already. He had also spent many hours running possible scenarios in his mind in case Zadkiel showed up asking for an explanation, telling himself that he had not caused Alec to spontaneously start remembering, that all he had done was answer his questions and that there were many things, important things, that Alec still did not remember. 

Sometimes Magnus could not help feeling that he and Alec were living on borrowed time, and he kept looking for signs that Alec was getting sick again, or for any indication that things were about to go south. He told himself that his anxiety was irrational but still could not shake it off. Every time that Alec was on duty and Magnus’ phone rang, he jumped because he feared the call that would tell him that something had happened to Alec, that he had been injured or worse, that he was dead. It was fear that, in part, prevented Magnus from following the dictum of his heart and make love to Alec. He felt that if and when he and Alec made love, all plausible deniability would disappear and Zadkiel would be justified to take Alec. Yet, every time Alec was at his doorstep, every time Alec wrapped his arms around him and kissed him, all fear and anxiety disappeared and all concerns about what Zadkiel might do, or the price he might exact for Magnus’ transgression, were gone. 

“Coming!” he called out again when the doorbell insistently rang a third time. As he crossed his living room in the direction of the front door, he checked the clock that hung on one of the walls and realized that Alec was at least fifteen minutes early. The Shadowhunter was always punctual, but rarely early. He was considerate and mindful that way; he never wanted to impose on Magnus’ time, even if Magnus did not mind. And, Magnus did not mind, not by a long shot. If it was up to him, Alec would be living with him already and he would be welcoming every morning in which he awoke with the feel of Alec’s body against his, every morning in which he could kiss Alec awake. 

As he turned the deadbolt and wrapped his hand around the doorknob, Magnus thought that not in a million years he would have imagined that he could love Alec more. During that year they had been apart, he had thought his love for the Shadowhunter filled his heart to bursting. But now he understood that he had been wrong, because now he loved Alec more and with more passion than before, now his heart felt full in a way he had not imagined possible. 

Magnus pulled the door open, a smile curving his lips, a feeling of anticipation in the pit of his stomach, ready to welcome Alec with a kiss and an embrace, ready to tell him that the thought of their evening together was the only thing that had made a long day of difficult meetings bearable. However, the anticipation, the happiness and the smile died as soon as he opened the door, for it was not Alec’s smiling face that awaited at the threshold, it was not the deep brown eyes of the Shadowhunter looking at him, and it was not Alec’s arms that reached towards him. 

Startled, Magnus took a step back, a question forming in his mind, a question that did not make it past his lips. Only half-aware of the object that glowed with golden shimmer in the man’s hand, he lifted both arms to cover his face and torso in a defensive posture, calling on his magic powers that for so long had remained unused. But either his powers were truly dormant, or he was not fast enough, for he could not even muster a protective spell before a dagger was plunged into his chest, the sensation of red-hot steel reaching the very center of his heart. A sharp pain pierced him and cut him in two, and abruptly, all air escaped his lungs, as if the dagger had punctured a balloon in his chest and it had violently deflated, leaving him struggling for breath. As an adrenaline rush fed a belated flight or fight response, he stumbled backward another step, trying to put distance between himself and his assailant. He attempted to bring his arms up once again, trying to protect himself or call on his magic powers, he was no longer sure. However, his attacker was faster, stronger and was obviously acting with premeditation rather than panic.  With a swift movement, the man pulled the dagger out, and with an even more powerful thrust plunged it in Magnus’ chest once again, the hot steel piercing skin and muscle, breaking through bone and collapsing his right lung. The pain was unbearable, a scorching rod piercing him through and through with relentless, deliberate and brutal force. 

Magnus lost his battle to stay on his feet, fell backward, and hit the floor with a thud. His assailant fell upon him and pulling the dagger out a second time, brought it down for yet another powerful stab. This time, Magnus felt the knife reaching all the way to his spine, and for a split-second of relative lucidity, he thought that this was what insects must feel when they were pinned to a display case. The thought flew out of his mind almost as fast as it formed, as his lungs and brain began to frantically demand oxygen, and his feet and hands grew numb from the lack of blood circulation. White lights sparkled on his peripheral vision and his head began to swim. He realized that some mysterious power was burning the adrenaline away, preventing him from using magic to defend himself, and gradually but surely paralyzing him. It was some mysterious power that Magnus somehow knew was not magical. He was pinned to the floor, the heavy body of his attacker on top of him, compressing his chest and immobilizing his rapidly weakening body.   

His frantic and oxygen-deprived brain tried to make sense of what was happening; of the mysterious golden glow of the dagger in the man’s hand; of the burning and sharp pain that was rapidly spreading throughout his body as if the dagger had released lava into his system and it was poisoning him; of the evil expression on the man’s face. 

The attacker looked down at him, his face a stone mask of fury, malice and satisfaction. As if from a distance, Magnus registered the next time the man pulled out the knife and stabbed him again. This time the stab was even more deliberate than the previous ones. The man kept his murderous gaze fixed on Magnus as he plunged the knife on his upper abdomen and, then upwards under his chest bone until it reached his heart. This time, Magnus barely felt the pain. His brain was shutting down and whatever venom the dagger had delivered into his system was numbing him and rendering any attempt to defend himself futile. Through blurred vision, Magnus saw his attacker’s satisfied smile before he bent down and brought his lips to Magnus’ ear. 

“Retribution is best when it comes unexpectedly,” the man whispered, his breath hot and fouled against Magnus’ skin. The man’s accent was somewhat familiar, but Magnus could not quite place it because his brain was running out of oxygen and he was quickly losing his battle to stay conscious.   

Magnus gasped as he made a superhuman effort to fill his lungs with air, but either the air could not make it past his pierced chest, or the dagger had collapsed both his lungs. In a last feeble attempt to defend himself, he concentrated the remaining of his strength in lifting his arms, but they no longer obeyed.  The man pulled out the dagger once again and plunged into Magnus’ chest one last time and Magnus could no longer recall how many times the man had stabbed him. 

“We are even warlock,” the voice finally said but Magnus’ oxygen-deprived brain barely registered the words. 

A moment or an eternity later, Magnus felt a momentary reprieve when the man stood, lifting his weight from his chest. Magnus gasped, his lungs instinctually trying to get air into his system, but the effort was futile. Instead of air, he tasted blood in his mouth as his lungs and chest filled up with it. His attacker stood above him for a moment, glancing down at him with a triumphed expression. Before the man turned and walked away, Magnus thought he saw a familiar golden glow on the man’s eyes, a familiar and chilling golden glow. 

Magnus badly wanted to close his eyes, give in to the desire for the relief that came from oblivion, let go of reality and let the darkness take him. But instead, he fought with all his might for another breath, even if it was just half a breath. Refusing to give up and not knowing how his body experienced one last jolt of adrenaline, and Magnus used it to snap his fingers once, calling on the forces of nature that surround all living things, those forces that for over three hundred years had fed his powers and kept him alive. A feeble sparkle came alive between his fingers, one small sparkle of magic energy, the first in a year, and Magnus directed it towards his chest in a last attempt to close the holes that had pierced his heart.  But even as he did, Magnus knew that it was useless, that he was dying because his injuries were not of the mundane, but rather of the divine kind, and could not be cured with magic. 

He was dying, Magnus knew it. He had lived three centuries, survived wars, famines, homelessness, and poverty, fought countless battles, just to die here in the foyer of his apartment, alone and scared, unable to use magic to stave off death. Warlocks were immortal but that did not mean that they were invincible. Even warlocks died if they were wounded badly enough, or if magic or divine powers were used to wound them. 

_I should have known,_ Magnus thought as his lungs instinctually fought for air, his chest making a whizzing sound that pierced the silence of the apartment, _I should have known that Zadkiel’s punishment would come in a roundabout way._

The thought brought an unexpected and momentary rush of clarity. This was Zadkiel’s reckoning, payback for Magnus reneging on their deal. Magnus was somewhat relieved because, instead of getting back at Alec, Zadkiel had chosen him instead. Alec would be okay because the price for Magnus’ selfishness would be his own life. Magnus would not have to worry about Alec anymore and Alec would get to live a long and hopefully fulfilling life. Other darker thoughts followed, thoughts that erased relief: he would never have another chance to tell Alec how much he loved him, how important he was to him, how much he needed him. Alec would arrive in a few minutes, punctual and excited about their date and would find Magnus dead or dying on the floor. He would try to save him not knowing that there was no salvation for the kind of injury Magnus had suffered, not knowing that the dagger had injected him with a venom that was now gushing through his veins and killing him.   

As if from a long distance and through the thick fog that was obscuring his vision, Magnus heard footsteps and then an exclamation of horror. Someone was calling his name, and the sound pulled Magnus from the dark oblivion that had begun to swallow him. He took one last stubborn gasp for air, the air making a gurgling sound as it passed through his throat, the need for oxygen, for one last breath, overcoming the natural desire to stop the pain, to simply let go. He opened his eyes and saw an anguished and terrified face came into view. 

“A-A-Ale-xan-der…” he tried to say, each letter coming in between wheezing stunted gasps. _What?_ Magnus thought. What could he say? What message could he lave for the man he loved and would now lose forever? What could he say that would soothe the pain he knew Alec would feel? Was there enough air left in his lungs and enough lucidity left in his brain to convey all the things he wished to say to Alec, to convey all the love he felt, to say that he was sorry to have come back into his life just to leave again? 

Magnus knew he did not have enough strength or life left in him to tell Alec all he wanted to say: how much he loved him, how much he wanted to spend a lifetime with him, how incredibly fortunate he felt to have known a love so great and pure before the end. He wanted for the words to be out in the world, for the words to leave his lips and reach Alec. But there was no time, and not enough life left in him, not enough. Death already had a firm grasp on his soul; his body had already begun to grow cold; his eyes were already closing; his lips were no longer able to form words. Death was already beckoning him and there was not enough air and not enough life to convey all his love.

 

**I am sorry, I thought I had only one chapter left, but it looks like there will be at least one more.**


	10. Testimonies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am his husband,” Alec had replied. The words had simply spilled out of him, but as soon as he had said them, Alec had known that that is what he was meant to be to Magnus: his husband. That is what he was supposed to have been all along.

Alec stood by his office window, his hands clasped behind his back, and through the glass observed the squad of young Shadowhunters that, under Izzy’s command, were doing drills on the grounds surrounding the Institute. The young recruits had completed a series of warm-up sprints and were now simulating hand to hand combat, their young bodies moving with a grace and speed that no mundane would ever consider human. The warm sunny morning had also attracted mundies to the park. Oblivious to the activities of the Nephilim, a few of them jogged along the paths while others sat on benches by the pond holding their morning coffees and likely enjoying the arrival of a spring that had finally persuaded the tulips to bloom in the garden hedges. 

Alec wondered, not for the first time, how two worlds – the mundane and the shadow world – managed to exist side by side, one completely oblivious to the dangers always threatening its survival and to the work that the other world did to protect and preserve its integrity. He also wondered what it would be like to live on the other side of the divide; what it would be like to be oblivious to the existence of demons and angels, and to the terrible ways in which they toyed with the world. If he was not a Nephilim, would he be one of those joggers, going about his life blind to the soldiers that just a few feet away trained to fight in a war that seemed to know no end? Would he then pick up coffee and bagels and head home? And who would be waiting for him there? If he was a mundane, he would surely not fear going home and finding his boyfriend lying on a pool of his own blood. 

In a gesture that had become almost unconscious, Alec looked down at his hands, and for a second, he thought he saw them covered in Magnus’ blood once again. The coppery smell and sticky consistency were permanently imprinted in his memory, along with the image of Magnus laying on the floor, life gushing from his chest, blood turning his shirt a dark red and soaking the rug underneath him. Not for the first time, he blamed himself for having been too late, for having been so excited about his date that he had not immediately realized that something was terribly wrong when he exited the elevator and heard the frantic voice of a man speaking on the phone, telling whoever was at the other end of the line that someone had been stabbed and was dying. 

Confused, Alec had stopped midway down the corridor and for a moment had wondered whether he was on the wrong floor. But then his eyes had landed on the familiar open doorway and beyond it, on the prostrate figure of Magnus on the floor. The breath had caught in Alec’s throat and suddenly everything else had faded: the man’s voice, the corridor, the door, the whole world. Everything else was gone, except for Magnus on the floor and the bright red puddle forming under him. That and the deafening sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.

In that split second of dawning realization, a thousand thoughts had run through Alec’s mind, dark thoughts that erased all his previous anticipation for a night in the arms of the man Alec had hoped would accept him as his lover. Alec had run to Magnus’ side, quietly calling his name, looking for any sign of recognition, searching for a pulse or any sign of life in the warlock’s eyes. But all he saw were a pair of closed eyelids on an ashen face, slightly parted lips that had begun to turn blue, and the faint pulsations with which blood gushed from Magnus’ chest as the warlock’s heart fought a losing battle to keep pumping life through his veins. Alec felt his own heartbeat faltering, as if his own heart had been bleeding as if his own life was also escaping through a hole in his chest.

“Magnus,” he had called again, louder this time, and lifting the warlock’s hand had checked for any sparkles of magic streaming from his fingers. “Come on Magnus, used your magic,” he had said, his tone pleading and desperate. “Come on.” But the only answer to his call was a faint twitch in Magnus’ already cold hand. Alec had not seen Magnus use magic in the last few weeks, even though he sometimes felt an energy that could only be magical irradiating from the warlock. He had not asked why Magnus was not using his powers, and Magnus had not felt the need to explain it either. That night, as he kneeled beside Magnus, his new pants getting soaked in the blood that continued to spread from his chest, Alec had willed with all his might for Magnus to call on his powers and to use them to close his wounds and come back to him. 

Instinctually and almost blindly, Alec had reached for his stele, the only healing instrument he carried but had stopped with his hand halfway to his pocket. A stele would be useless, he had realized; Magnus could not be healed by the use of Nephilim powers. The realization had increased the panic rapidly rising from his very center, a panic that seemed to feed a terrible powerlessness. Mastering all his concentration, he had tried to think of something else he could do. He did not know anything about healing potions, and he had no powers of healing. He was a simple soldier with no experience or knowledge of how to heal a magical creature like Magnus. 

As a rush of adrenaline had reawakened all his senses, the world around him had come back to him all at once. Alec had then become aware of the voice of the man he had first seen upon coming out of the elevator, the voice transmitting information to some unknown person over the phone. Mr. Whyte, Alec had thought, as the name unexpectedly came to him as if he had randomly pulled it out of a hat. The name of Magnus’ elderly neighbor, whom Alec had seen only a handful of times before, seemed to materialize out of thin air in Alec’s mind. He had crossed paths with the man and his wife before, not just in the last few weeks, but much earlier. At that moment, Alex had remembered clearly the first time he had seen the man in the hallway. “Good morning son,” Mr. Whyte had said and Alec, having forgotten that he was not glamored, had been surprised by the acknowledgement. The memory had randomly popped into Alec’s head as his frantic brain fired random thoughts in the hope of coming up with something useful.

Strangers had appeared as if from nowhere, and the hallway had suddenly become crowded. They arrived in a rush, asking him to step aside and pushing him aside when he failed to move. Hands had then come into view, gloved hands, searching for a pulse in Magnus’ neck. He had seen a stretcher from the periphery of his vision and then other instruments, strange instruments which, with cold precision, the strange hands had attached to Magnus’ chest and mouth. Someone had opened Magnus’ shirt and Alec’s had felt a knife twisting in his stomach at the sight of the stab wounds on the warlock’s chest, stab wounds that coincided with all major organs. A reddish foam was emanating from some of the wounds, and a man’s voice had announced that it appeared that the lungs were punctured. 

Alec had remained kneeling beside Magnus, his gaze fixed upon him, unable to move and unable to speak. He saw how a set of hands had begun to pour some kind of substance over the wounds in an attempt to create a seal that could allow Magnus to breathe. Pieces of white gauze had been pressed against the wounds, the white rapidly turning red. All the while, Alec had tried to keep up with the strangers’ chatter, with the movements of the hands and with any change in Magnus’ condition, but his mind kept shutting out the voices and he seemed to be watching the scene through a veil that rendered everything remote. His mind had become capable of containing only one single thought, just one word: Magnus, Magnus, Magnus. 

“Do you know his name?” an unfamiliar female voice had asked, and it had taken a second for Alec to realize that the voice was speaking to him. 

“Magnus,” Alec had replied, his voice coming as if from a long distance, “Magnus Bane.”

“Is he your friend?” the voice had then asked, and this time Alec has looked up and locked eyes with a young woman in a blue uniform kneeling by Magnus’ head. 

“I am his husband,” Alec had replied. The words had simply spilled out of him, but as soon as he had said them, Alec had known that that is what he was meant to be to Magnus: his husband. That is what he was supposed to have been all along. 

“Does he have any allergies that you know of?” the woman had asked, not even losing a moment to ponder Alec’s answer. 

_ Did Magnus have any allergies?  _ Alec thought trying to remaster his power of reason. _Did warlocks even suffer from allergies? Did mundane medicine even work on Downworlders?_ The paramedic’s question had snapped Alec out of his paralyzing panic. Not knowing what else to do or what Magnus was, Mr. Whyte had called the only people he thought could help, and now Magnus was about to be treated and perhaps even be carried off by mundanes who knew nothing about his nature or how to help him.

“Not that I know of,” Alec had replied because he needed to buy time and there was nothing else that he could think to say. He did not have the power to open a portal and take Magnus to the Institute; he did not have back-up or any of the tools Nephilim used to make mundanes forget, and even if he did not want to recognize it, these mundanes in blue uniform were the only people here that could perhaps help. If it was necessary, he would figure out a way out of this situation later; perhaps he and Magnus would come up with a solution. 

Unawares of Alec’s concern, the young woman and the young man had started performing life saving procedures, speaking in technical jargon and doing things to Magnus that Alec did not understand. Alec had helplessly watched, all along willing Magnus to snap his fingers and send a stream of magic through his veins and towards his wounds, closing them. He had willed Magnus to open his eyes, smile at him and then stand up. He had imagined a relieved ‘phew, that was close’ coming out of his lips. He had visualized Magnus saying that he needed to be more careful next time, that perhaps he should have been more vigilant and not open his door to strangers. He had imagined Magnus looking at him and having realized that Alec had been terrified, stepping closer, cupping his hand around Alec’s cheek and kissing him, the kiss making Alec forget the sight of his dying body and the terror that now gripped his chest and made it impossible to breathe.

A moment later, the young man handed him something and said: “here, this was in his hand.” Alec had looked down and unthinkingly taken the crumpled piece of white paper the man handed him; its edges smeared with Magnus’ blood.

As soon as they moved Magnus to the stretcher, Alec too had stood up. Taking advantage that the paramedics and the cops that had been standing in the hallway were occupied, and in a fleeting moment of clarity, he had turned, taken his stele out of his pocket and with swift movements had sent two fire messages: one to Jace and the other to Catarina. _“Magnus was attacked,”_ the messages to Catarina had read, _“paramedics are taking him to New York Presbyterian, meet me there please.”_ __

“You can ride with us in the ambulance,” the young woman had said, and Alec had followed them and Magnus’ stretcher down the hallway and into the elevator. All along, the woman had been squeezing a balloon that pumped oxygen into Magnus through a tube they had inserted down his throat. The young man had continued checking Magnus’ vitals, watching for a pulse or a heartbeat. Now as he looked down at the young recruits simulating combat, Alec recalled how the young man had gazed at him with an expression of hopelessness and sadness. He had been certain that, despite all they were doing to keep Magnus alive, the paramedics thought this was a lost battle.  

“It is almost time brother, are you ready to go?” Jace now asked from the doorway, the words barely reaching the remote place where Alec’s thoughts had wondered. 

Jace had paused in the doorway a few moments earlier and had silently watched Alec as his brother gazed, lost in thought, out the window. Seeing Alec’s tall figure illuminated by the morning sun and the lost expression on his face, Jace could not help recalling how he had found Alec the night of the attack. 

As soon as he read Alec’s frantic message, and not wasting a moment, Jace had sprinted out of the Institute and then onto the street where he hailed a cab. All through that interminable ride to the hospital, Jace had replayed in his mind the conversations he had had with Magnus since the day he had given Alec the will. Magnus had been anxious about any possible retribution from Zadkiel. He had repeatedly asked Jace to keep an eye on Alec, to call him immediately if he saw anything strange. Jace, who had always been somewhat reckless, had dismissed Magnus’ concerns, had told him that there was nothing to worry about, that if the angel had not come asking for explanations already, it was unlikely he would show up. That night, as the cab drove him to the hospital and for days after that, Jace had blamed himself for not having heeded Magnus’ fears.

Jace would never forget how his brother had looked in the waiting room of the trauma center, the vision of his hunched figure, the look of agony and desperation on his face, his blood-stained hands and blood-soaked clothes. He had found Alec sitting in an armchair, his elbows resting on his knees and his face in his hands. His brother was not someone who cried, but that night, Alec had been crying in silent sobs that nevertheless shook his whole body. 

“What happened?” Jace had asked as he sat on the armchair next to his brother and put a hand on his back. Alec had lifted his face and looked at him, and Jace had seen more anguish in his brother’s expression that was fair for someone so young. That look of anguish had reminded Jace of how small Alec had been when he first met him, how insecure, how fragile and the expression and the memory broke his heart in a thousand pieces. 

Alec had started to explain but had stopped when Catarina arrived. Magnus’s friend walked with the swift and confident stride of someone who belonged and was completely at home in a strange place like that mundane hospital. A man in a white coat followed a couple of steps behind her, a tall black man with deep black eyes, a fashionable goatee, and a sinuous stride. Without missing a step and not stopping to get an account of what had happened, Catarina and the man had headed to the room where doctors and nurses were working on Magnus. “Put on your glamor now,” Catarina had told them as she passed them by. Jace and Alec had taken out their steles and activated their glamor runes, rendering themselves invisible to anyone who was not a Downworlder or a Nephilim.

Less than a minute later, several doctors and nurses had walked out of the room, casually chatting about their coffee break, and about how quiet the emergency room was that night. None of them seemed at all confused or concerned about the patient they had just left behind. As soon as the last of the nurses left, Alec and Jace had rushed into the room where they found Catarina already running a hand above Magnus’ chest, streams of purple and blue magic flowing from her fingers. 

“This is Jason; don’t worry, he is one of us,” Catarina had said, not even bothering to look up at Jace and Alec. 

“Dr. Jason Blackclaws,” the young doctor said extending a hand and shaking Jace’s. “I just moved here from Seattle. I am hoping to join Luke Greymark’s pack.” He had then turned back to the task of helping Catarina diagnose and hopefully treat Magnus, checking his vitals and lifting his closed eyelids, searching for any sign of consciousness.

Jace had thought that it was completely unnecessary for the man to disclose that he was a werewolf. His wolfish movements and the way his eyes seemed to change color every so often were clear signs of his condition. “Thank you for your help,” Jace had said because he did not know what else to say and Alec had obviously become incapable of speech. His brother had stopped at the foot of the bed and from there he gazed at Magnus looking, Jace suspected, for any sign of change in his condition.

“His pulse is very faint,” Dr. Blackclaws had stated after a moment of silence in which his fingers first searched for Magnus’ pulse in the inside of his wrist and then counted heartbeats to the movements of the minute hand on his wristwatch. “He is barely breathing and only because the paramedics were able to temporarily seal his punctured lungs,” he had added as he turned to the computer screen by the bed and examined the x-rays of Magnus’ chest that the nurses had taken. “Whatever you are planning to do, Catarina, you better do it soon, he does not have much time.” 

Abruptly and with a loud curse, Catarina had snapped her hand away from Magnus’ chest as if she had just been hit with an electric shock. The reaction in Magnus had been also immediate. As if he too had been hit by a shock of electricity, he had gasped, his whole body had tensed, his teeth had clenched, and his back had arched like a dome against the mattress. For a split second, his body had constricted as if it was one whole muscle, before falling back against the bed and releasing a rattling exhalation. 

The movements had jerked Alec back to reality. “I saw that,” he had said, as he looked from Magnus to Catarina, his voice as tense as a wire about to snap. 

“What happened?” Jason had asked, looking up from the computer screen, and turning once again to examine Magnus, making sure his heart was still beating. 

Jace, like Alec, had seen the golden stream of energy that had shot out from Magnus’ chest, a golden energy that had broken into tiny sparkles when it came into contact with Catarina’s magic. Whatever it was had obviously shocked Catarina because she had rubbed the hand and then the arm that she had been using to treat Magnus. “I can’t cure him,” she had declared, her voice now acquiring a tone of bewilderment and apprehension that had not been there before. “Something is interfering with my powers, some energy that is not magical or demonic as far as I can tell, something I have never felt before. My powers are useless.”

Catarina’s statement had been like a bucket of cold water down Jace’s back, cold water that smothered the certainty that until a moment before had kept Jace’s anxiety at bay. He looked at his brother and saw in his expression more panic, fear, and desperation than before. If Catarina’s statement had caused Jace’s heart to sink to the bottom of his stomach, it seemed to have ripped the heart out of Alec’s chest. The expression in his brother’s face shattered any remaining pieces of Jace’s heart. 

“I might know what it is,” Jason had offered. “A fragment of the weapon is lodged in his spine,” he added as he turned the computer screen so Catarina could see it for herself. “I don’t know what it is, but it is emitting some form of energy that interfered with the x-rays.”

“Can you take it out?” Alec had asked examining what looked like a golden blotch on the screen. 

“We can try,” Catarina had replied, she too examining the image. “But I suspect that Magnus was not attached by an ordinary weapon. I can sense something more in addition to whatever that is, some unknown force preventing my powers from closing the wounds. Whatever the weapon was, it left something behind, something more than its tip. Magnus will die if we don’t figure out what it is. He does not have much time,” Catarina had added as she turned to Magnus and put her stethoscope to his chest. “His heartbeat is very faint, and his breathing is shallow.”

As he now observed his brother’s orphaned expression, Jace wondered whether Alec would ever be able to stop playing in his head the terrible events of that night: the sadness, the desperation, the determination, the anger and the desire for justice that had fueled every one of his actions in the hours that followed. Jace knew that he, himself, would have a hard time moving beyond those events, that for many years to come he would still remember the look of suffering in his brother’s face, and the desperation with which he held on to Magnus, refusing to let him go, giving all of him for just a chance to save the warlock’s life.  

“Ready brother?” Jace asked again, pushing away the memories of that night.  Alec slowly turned and looked back at him and Jace knew that his brother’s thoughts had also been on those terrible events. 

“Is it time already?” Alec asked as he checked his watch. 

“Idris is about to open the portal for us,” Jace replied. “We appear in front of the Inquisitors’ Taskforce at two local time. Izzy will meet us on the roof.”

Alec looked out the window one last time and saw that his sister had left another Shadowhunter in charge of finishing the drills and was now heading back to the Institute, also checking her watch as she went. If Izzy was nervous, it did not show, for out of the three of them, his sister was likely the strongest and fiercest.

* * *

 

“When did you learn, Mr. Lightwood, that the weapon used to attack the warlock Magnus Bane was of angelic origin?” Josiah Aldertree asked. The man was in his sixties and had a white beard and a prominent belly that reminded Alec of the pictures of Santa Claus of which mundanes were so partial. 

From the place where he stood in an “at-ease” position, Alec saw each of the faces of the members of the Inquisitor’s Taskforce as they sat in high-backed chairs and looked down at him, their eyes impassive. The three men and one woman looked like the most unlikely group ever to come together in one place. 

Faced with a situation that had almost caused a diplomatic catastrophe between The Clave and the Spiral Labyrinth, Robert Lightwood, his father and Inquisitor, had decided to convene a task force to investigate the events surrounding the attack on Magnus. In an act of goodwill and as a way to both repair the increasingly tense relationship with the warlock hierarchy and ensure the warlock community of the impartiality of the investigation, Robert had invited two warlocks to sit on it. Thus, the task force was made up of two of Idris’ elders (Josiah Aldertree and Augustus Pineshade) and two prominent warlocks (Mustafa Bae and Marisol Shae).  Despite the fact that they were likely hundreds of years older than their Nephilim counterparts, the two warlocks could easily pass as the two older men’s grandchildren. 

The Clave’s representative that had greeted Alec, Jace and Izzy when they stepped out of the portal had asked them to wait in the hallway outside the room where the hearings were being conducted. In the last hour, first Izzy and then Jace had been called into the room. Neither of them had come out or if they had finished their testimony, they had been escorted out through a different door. During the time that he had been waiting, Alec had not seen any other witnesses. He had spent the time scanning the hallway, searching for familiar faces, once in a while nervously running his hands through his hair, making it even messier. He had not wanted to be there; he would have preferred to be anywhere else, doing anything else that did not require him to relive the events of that fatidic night. 

“Jace Herondale and Dr. Jason Blackclaw made the discovery,” Alec replied, his voice even and his tone certain. He was determined to keep his anxiety in check, to not show hesitation and to answer any questions in as straight forward a manner as possible, not lying but not offering any more information than what was asked.

“And how did they ascertain the weapon’s origin?” Marisol Shae asked.

“Dr. Blackclaw and Catarina Loss removed the dagger’s fragment from Magnus’ spine. Jace first recognized the energy as angelic. It glowed in a way that had an effect on his angelic blood.” Alec had seen the reaction in Jace almost immediately, the way in which his eyes and the runes in his arms and neck had suddenly become as bright as gold as his blood recognized the energy emanating from the dagger’s tip. Even considering how small the fragment was, the angelic energy that it produced had been so strong that the lights in the room had flickered and the equipment faltered. “Jason, I mean Dr. Blackclaw, and Jace took high resolution pictures with Jace’s camera and found what looked like angelic runes carved into the blade,” Alec added.

“Did you know at the moment the name of the angelic weapon to which the fragment belonged?” Augusto Pineshade asked, and Alec thought that the man’s eyes had an unusually young quality that contrasted greatly with the wrinkled face of a man that was likely in his eighties. 

“Not at first,” Alec responded. “Jace sent the pictures to Izzy, our sister, at the Institute. She run the pictures through our historical database and made the discovery. She told us that the fragment was likely part of a weapon known by the name of Dáinsleif, which had been recently reported missing from the Iron Sisters’ collection.”

“And how did you…,” Pineshade started to ask.

“I am sorry Mr. Pineshare,” Marisol Shae interrupted. “I have some questions before you move on. “Mr. Lightwood, was this when Magnus Bane’s heart stopped, when you removed the fragment from his spine?”

Alec thought he saw a malicious glint in the warlock’s eyes. She knew that Alec did not want to relive that moment, that the memory would be too painful. Perhaps, she was trying to throw him off balance, or perhaps she wanted the Nephilim members of the panel to see the grief that the memory provoked in Alec. Whatever the reason, the question felt like a knife twisted in Alec’s gut. “Yes,” he replied; his tone curt. He would not give this people the satisfaction of seeing the anguish the memory caused him, and he would not let Marisol Shae throw him off. Yet the memory of Magnus’ still body, the blueness in his lips, and the paleness of his skin was as clear in his mind now as it had been that night. 

“No, no, no, Magnus,” Catarina had exclaimed, “stay with me; don’t do this to us.” 

Alec had heard Catarina as if from underwater. Catarina and Jason’s movements had become a blur as Alec fixed his gaze on Magnus. He had seen how Jason applied the defibrillator to Magnus’ chest and pushed the button. Magnus’ back had arched and then relaxed. “Don’t leave me, Magnus please, don’t leave me,” Alec had silently pleaded as Jason and Catarina fought to re-start his heart. Alec had lost count of how many times Jason had pushed that button and of how many times Magnus’ back had arched, but eventually, his heart had restarted, its beating faint and irregular, but still there, at least for the moment. 

“Is it true that Catarina Loss and Dr. Blackclaws used mundane medicine to re-start Bane’s heart?” Shae asked. 

“Yes. Due to the effects of the angelic weapon, Catarina could not use magic. They had to resort to conventional mundane techniques.”

“Did Bane’s heart stop more than once during the night?”

“Yes, Catarina and Jason did their best to keep Magnus alive.” With each question, Alec’s dislike for Shae increased. Her questions were cruel, dangerous and they were coming awfully close to things that Alec was determined to keep from the Clave and from the Spiral Labyrinth. He wanted to believe that Magnus had fought for his life, that the reason why Jason and Catarina had been able to keep his heart from giving up was because Magnus was not ready to let go, but he was not sure. Magnus had remained unconscious, his eyes closed, his skin as pale as ash. 

“Did you use any other techniques, tools or healing powers?” This time the question came from Mustafa Bae. Alec felt anxiety stirring in the pit of his stomach. Of all the questions that the panel could ask, this was the one he could not answer truthfully, not without jeopardizing everything and everyone.

“As I said,” he stated, his tone even and certain, “magic was not an option, and we had nothing else at our disposal.”

“You did not use Nephilim powers on him, then.” Even though Bae was not strictly asking a question, his pointed tone suggested that he was expecting an answer. 

“As I am sure you know,” Alec said and made sure to pronounce each word carefully, “angelic magic, not only does not work on Downworlders, but it can also be deadly to them.”

“As deadly as the Dáinsleif dagger, I am sure,” Shae commented casually, and Alec was even more certain that he did not like the woman. 

“Are you done Miss Shae?” Pineshade asked, his voice unable to completely disguise his frustration. “Can we continue?” 

From where he stood, Alec saw the expression of annoyance in the two warlocks’ faces. He suspected that these four people would have never chosen to be in the same room if they were not mandated to do so. Despite his dislike for Shae, he felt certain comradery towards the warlocks because he could clearly hear the disdain in Pineshade’s voice. The old Shadowhunter did not really care for Magnus’ life; he did not care to know how much Magnus had suffered. Afterall, he was just a Downworlder embroiled in a messy situation that, for some unknown reason, had involved a precious Nephilim artifact. In the grand scheme of things, what really mattered to the Clave was finding out how the Dáinsleif dagger had ended up in the hands of Downworlders.

“How did you make the connection between the weapon and Lorenzo Rey?” Aldertree asked from the other side of the table, bringing the interrogation to what mattered most to the Clave.

“Jace and Isabel used the fragment to track the dagger. The tracking led them to Lorenzo Rey’s mansion.” 

Alec did not remember when Izzy appeared by his side; but at some point, he had felt the touch of his sister’s hand on his, and her arm around his shoulders. “Everything will be okay,” Izzy had said, even though her eyes told him that she was not at all sure that would be the case. Still, the gesture had been so tender that Alec had unconsciously bent down and leaned his head on her shoulder, not caring that Izzy was so much shorter than him. At that moment, he had needed more than ever the reassuring, self-confident and the stable presence of his sister. “Magnus is a fighter,” she had added. “He would never leave you now that he found you again.”

“The mission report for that night indicates that Isabel Lightwood and Jace Herondale led the team that finally cornered and captured Rey,” Pineshade indicated as he looked down at a copy of the report in front of him. “You were not part of the team that captured the rogue warlock. Why was that?”

“I delegated the mission to Jace and Izzy,” Alec replied. “They were more than capable to do what was required.”

“This was a very precious, very important and very valuable angelic relic, Mr. Lightwood,” Aldertree stated. “I find it highly unusual that a Head of an Institute would delegate such an important mission to his subordinates.”

“Jace and Izzy are very competent and capable Shadowhunters, Mr. Aldertree, as they demonstrated that night.” Alec realized that while he disliked Marisol Shae, he truly despised Josiah Aldertree. The man was a single-minded bigot who could not understand that Alec might have had other priorities. 

“Where were you while Miss Lightwood and Mr. Herondale captured Rey?”

“I was where I was supposed to be,” Alec replied, his tone deadly serious, “by my boyfriend’s bedside.”

Alec wished he had a camera to capture the faces of the two Nephilim and the two warlocks. While Shae and Bae’s expression were of utter surprise and even amusement, Aldertree and Pineshade’s faces reflected outrage, anger, and disgust in equal measure. Not only had Alec just come out of the closet on the record and in front of two of the oldest members of the Clave, but he had also confessed to putting his relationship to none other than a Downworlder before his duties. He did not care, however, because he knew he had done precisely what he had to do, the only thing he could have done: stay beside Magnus, squeeze his hand while he held his own breath every time Magnus’ heart stopped and Jason and Catarina brought him back. He had sent Jace and Izzy after Lorenzo because he had known that he could not make himself leave Magnus’ side; because he had known that he would never forgive himself if Magnus opened his eyes and he was not there; because his place was in that hospital room holding the hand of the man who should have been his husband until the very end. 

Mustafa Bae cleared his throat in a way that sounded awfully like an attempt to contain a chuckle before proceeding to the next question. “You do know that Lorenzo Rey claims that he does not know how Dáinsleif came to be in his possession. He also claims that at the time of his capture his powers were completely depleted rendering him incapable of resisting arrest, and that, taking advantage of his weakened condition, the Nephilim brutally beat him up. What can you tell us about that?”

“As I stated,” Alec responded, “I was not there at the moment of his capture, thus, I cannot confirm or deny Mr. Rey’s allegations. However, I have complete confidence in my team, and I am absolutely certain that they followed procedure when arresting Mr. Rey. As to the circumstances that led him to take the Dáinsleif dagger and used it to attach Magnus, I will leave it to the Clave and the Spiral Labyrinth to get to the bottom of that.” 

Alec had seen Lorenzo’s bruised face and the split lips that were still healing two days after his capture. The warlock had given him the evil eye as, escorted by a team of Shadowhunters and two envoys from the Spiral Labyrinth, he limped through the portal that took him to Idris and to the cell in which he would wait judgement. At first, Alec had suspected that Jace was responsible for the injuries. However, it had actually been Izzy the one to inform him that Lorenzo had resisted arrest and she had had to contain him. Jace, who had been casually leaning against the door frame behind Izzy, had simply chuckled. Their sister was loyal to a fault, and Alec had always pitied anyone who tried to hurt someone Izzy cared for. 

Yet, Alec could not bring himself to pity Lorenzo for having been at the receiving end of Izzy’s wrath. In fact, he thought Lorenzo should count himself lucky that it had not been him, Alec, the one to capture him. Alec was not generally given to anger, but he had been angry enough to kill the warlock if he had found himself face to face with him. Lorenzo had not only attacked Magnus; he had also engaged in all kinds of illegal activities and had seriously damaged the relationship between the Nephilim and the warlock community during his tenure as High Warlock. Alec just hoped that he would eventually be suitably punished. 

Half an hour later, and after several more questions - some new, others different versions of previous ones – Alec was finally escorted by a member of the Clave through a door opposite the one he had entered. Once outside, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves, hoping the fresh afternoon air would dissipate the exhaustion that, after several sleepless nights and hours of testimony, had settled in his bones. He looked around and realized that he was standing in a long arcade corridor with ornate marble columns that looked out onto a lush inner yard, the sound of water from a fountain in the middle of it and of the birds singing in ornate cages the only sounds interrupting the silence. That and the sound of low voices coming from somewhere along the corridor. 

Alec walked in the direction of the voices, their low murmurs guiding him around a corner and then another until he reached the other side of the garden. As he drew closer, he recognized Izzy’s musical voice, Jace’s teasing baritone and a somewhat unfamiliar voice, which Alec suspected was Jason’s. As he turned around the last bent of the corridor, his friends and family came into view, standing in a cluster, engaged in a low conversation that Alec suspected had to do with the testimony that each of them had just given. 

As Alec approached, the group parted, and Alec’s heart skipped a beat. For there, standing among his friends and family was Magnus Bane, his lover, his partner, the man responsible for Alec’s sleepless nights and restless days, the man whose eyes he had been yearning to see once again since they opened that morning five days ago in the hospital. At that moment, everything and everyone else disappeared and all Alec could see was Magnus, his dazzling eyes, his tall figure, his seductive smile, calling him, beckoning him. Alec felt he could finally breathe, that the rock that for the last five days had been lodged in his chest had finally come lose, that he was fully alive once again.

With decisive steps, Alec walked forward, his arms aching to wrap themselves around Magnus, his body seeking the sensation of home that was only possible when he was in the shelter of Magnus’ arms, his hands itching to touch Magnus’ face and run fingers along the lines of his jaw. 

“Hi,” he whispered once he was closed enough.

“Hello,” Magnus replied, his voice equally low, his smile more dazzling now that he was so close. 

Neither of them seemed to notice when, wanting to give them some privacy, Jason, Catarina, Jace and Izzy walked away a few steps. At that moment only the two of them existed in the whole world, only two souls finally reuniting, only two bodies relishing in the comforting sensation of being near each other. 

Without a word, Magnus reached and cupped his hand around Alec’s cheek and then run his thumb along the lines of the Shadowhunter’s enticing lips. Alec felt that every single nerve ending in his body had suddenly congregated in his mouth, that no other sensation or sound existed, except for the feel of Magnus’ thumb drawing lines along his lips, and the beating of his own heart. 

“I wish you would do that with your mouth,” Alec whispered after a moment, and then his gaze shifted from Magnus’ luminous eyes down towards said mouth, that same mouth which memory had occupied so many of Alec’s dreams and so many of his waking hours, the mouth which taste Alec yearned for with every cell of his body. 

The breath caught in Magnus’ throat as his eyes too looked down towards Alec’s mouth, towards those white teeth that now peeked between sensual lips. Unable to contain the yearning that had plagued him, not only since he last saw the Nephilim when he finally came to in the hospital, but during each minute of each day he had wondered in the wilderness away from Alec, Magnus finally closed the distance and claimed those lips as his own.

Alec rested a hand atop Magnus’ heart on that spot where he knew the warlock carried a still fresh scar, the mark of a union of souls and the sharing of blood. He wrapped his other arm around Magnus’ waist and pulled him gently closer, wanting to close the distance that separated them. In turn, Magnus wrapped his free arm around Alec’s shoulders and rested his hand between his shoulder blades. He leaned against Alec and a deep sigh rose from the depth of his chest when he felt the strong, comforting and familiar sensation of the Shadowhunter’s protective body against his own.

Their kiss was tender, loving and full of promise, and for a second or an hour no one else existed, but the two of them. Alec knew at that moment that he was exactly where he wanted to be; that he belonged with this magical creature; that his whole life had been an endless wondering in the darkness, lost and without kin, until this wonderful man had claimed him as his own. On his part, Magnus, who had lived for over three centuries and had experienced what it was like to be part of thousands of lives, understood that never before and likely never again, he would feel the wholeness, the calm, and the peace he felt in Alec’s arms. 

“I missed you so much Alexander,” Magnus whispered when he finally convinced his lips to leave the paradise that were Alec’s lips. 

“I missed you too Magnus,” Alec responded. “How are you feeling? Should you be back on your feet so soon?” He could see that Magnus was still pale and that he looked tired, that the make-up was unable to completely disguise the bags under his eyes. The warlock was still recovering from his terrible ordeal, and there was nothing that Alec wanted more at that moment than to wrap Magnus in his arms and take him home. 

“I am fine Alexander,” Magnus said. “Really,” he added when he saw Alec’s dubious expression.

“They should not have made you testify so soon. You are still recovering.” Alec had used all kinds of excuses to try to postpone the hearings, but the Inquisitor’s office had been adamant that the hearing had to take place as soon as possible, that the sooner the taskforce completed its investigation, the sooner the whole mess created by Lorenzo could be put behind them. 

“I am fine. Besides I wanted to get this whole thing done and over with so I can go home. I cannot tell you how dreadful the rooms at the Spiral Labyrinth are. Whomever was in charge of the decoration was obviously alive during the Middle Ages and has not kept up with the times.”

 Since the morning after the attack, Magnus and Catarina had been kept incommunicado at the headquarters of the Spiral Labyrinth, where warlocks could keep an eye out for any aftereffects that the angelic dagger might have in Magnus, and where they could hopefully find out what had really happened. Alec had tried to stop the two warlocks who, alerted by the disturbance that the crash between angelic powers and warlocks magic had had on the Lay Line network, had shown up at the hospital. He had even tried to physically restrain them, threatening to punch anyone who tried to come near Magnus. It had been Magnus the one to remind him that the relationship between the Angel’s Children and Lilith’s Children was already fraught and that it was better to comply in order to avoid a bigger incident. Catarina, in turn, had reassured him she would look after Magnus, that she would not let anything happen to him. The last time Alec had seen Magnus, he had been slowly and with Catarina’s support stepping through the portal that took him away from him, and the last image that Alec had of him was of the pained expression on his face and the paleness that was evidence of Magnus’ weakened state. 

“Are you sure you are okay?” He now asked. 

“I am fine. My powers are not jet back to normal, but I feel stronger.”

“Does that mean you are coming home then?” Alec asked his tone almost a plea.  

“There isn’t a person in the world that could stop me,” Magnus replied. 

At that moment, Catarina coughed gently, obviously trying to call Alec and Magnus’ attention to the fact that they were not alone, that their friends and family were still standing close by. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Alec turned to the rest of the group. He did not let go of Magnus’ hand though. He needed the physical contact; he needed to know that Magnus was beside him, that he would not go away. 

“I heard you came out to Pineshade and Aldertree,” Jace teased him. 

“How do you know?” Alec asked in surprise, and the color on his face turned a deeper tone of red.

“The Shadowhunter that escorted us into the hearing room was an old classmate of mine at the academy. He told us,” Jace replied. “Good for you brother; those old farts need someone to shake their world.”

“Let’s go home, shall we?” Catarina interrupted. 

The six of them walked at an easy pace through the corridors and gardens that led from the building housing the Office of the Inquisitor to the courtyard where the only authorized portal in and out of Idris was kept under heavy guard. Alec kept a firm hold on Magnus’ hand, not wanting to let go and determined not to leave without the warlock. As they went, they talked about their testimonies, the questions they had been asked, the suspicion in Marisol Shae’s expression when she had probed about the effects of the angelic dagger in Magnus and the conditions of his recovery. Neither of them spoke about the secret they all knew and were determined to keep, the secret of what they had done to save Magnus’ life, and of the new connection that now existed between Alec and Magnus. 

As they passed through some of the buildings that were still under repairs a year after Jonathan’s attack, Magnus thought about the last time he had been in Idris, the way in which, taking advantage of the attack, he had opened an illegal portal to come for Alec, the hospital room in which he had found him, the look of desperation in Jace’s face when he thought he would lose his brother, his own despondency and desperation. So much had happened, so much had he and Alec sacrificed for each other. Yet, now as he walked hand in hand with Alec, those memories of absence and pain seemed somehow remote, like pictures that while memorializing a painful event, failed to elicit the original feelings. He was happy now and as result, he could not remember the events that had led to his separation from Alec in the same way he had remembered them while he was away. Memory was finicky that way.

Once they reached the courtyard where the portal was and taking advantage that Alec was presenting the documents authorizing their departure to one of the guards, Magnus took Jace aside and asked him whether he and Izzy could keep an eye on things at the Institute for a few days. “I would like to take Alexander somewhere for the weekend,” he added. 

“No problem,” Jace replied with a knowing smile that would have most likely made Alec blush but that didn’t even faze Magnus. “Have fun.” 

“I will guide you through,” Magnus told Alec a moment later, as he reached for his hand and led him through the portal. As he did every time that someone other than him led the way across the event horizon, Alec cleared his mind of all thoughts and focused all his attention on the feeling of Magnus’ hand in his, and of Magnus’ tall figure a step ahead of him. This time, however, there was something else, a new and stronger feeling of connection and security. He had travelled by portal with Magnus before and he had put his trust in Magnus knowing that he would get them through anything. Yet, this time, he felt an invisible bond linking him to the warlock, as if their interlaced fingers were a lifeline that linked them not only physically, but also mentally and spiritually. Alec knew that, even if he found himself lost in the darkness, he would be able to find Magnus just by pulling at that invisible thread that connected them.

As soon as he stepped through the portal, Alec felt the familiar sensation of being spun about followed by a feeling of vertigo when his feet left the ground. In the blink of an eye, he found himself in a space that was not here nor there, a space in between, a space that seemed to exist in the folds that separated material and the immaterial reality. For a split second, he felt the presence of Izzy, Jace and the rest of the group a few steps ahead, but suddenly and without warning, the space inside the portal seemed to split in two, like a tunnel reaching a crossroad, and then it was only him and Magnus. A moment later, they stepped onto an airy room, illuminated by the afternoon sun filtering through floor to ceiling windows, windows that framed the most breathtaking view of the French Alps.


	11. Rekindling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t put ideas in my head Shadowhunter,” Magnus said, his voice husky. “I am not in complete control of my powers yet. I could make more than our clothes disappear and where would we be then?”

As soon as his feet hit solid ground and the spinning sensation caused by the portal ceased, Alec scanned his surroundings, more from force of habit and the result of his Shadowhunter training, than out of concern. The expression on his face quickly shifted from disorientation to surprise when he saw the breathtaking view of the mountains that filled each one of the enormous windows. “Where are we Magnus?” He asked turning to look at the warlock. “Wait,” he added not waiting for an answer. “I know this place; I have been here before.” The ease with which his mind recognized the room and its location added to the feeling of surprise. While there were still empty spots in his memory, recalling events and places seemed to be getting easier and easier by the day.   

 “I thought that we deserved a few days to ourselves,” Magnus said by way of answer. With a sheepish smile, he took a step closer and pressed himself against Alec, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. The sensation of Alec’s body against his own had the instant effect of awakening a desire that was never too far under the surface, a desire that now that they were finally alone, Magnus had no reason to conceal. “Do you mind?” he asked. 

“I don’t mind at all,” Alec responded, his voice low and full of longing, “except that I didn’t bring a toothbrush or a change of clothes.” 

“I was hoping that you would not mind not wearing any clothes for a while,” Magnus whispered in a husky voice. His mouth was suddenly dry, and the rhythm of his heart was rapidly escalating. 

“I don’t mind it at all,” Alec responded with a big smile, “as long as you don’t mind doing the same.” Alec fought and lost the battle against a deep blush that rose to his cheeks, the color reminding Magnus of just how young Alec truly was, how inexperience at the game of seduction. But then Magnus remembered that it was precisely his innocence and inexperience that had first made it impossible for him to stay away from the Shadowhunter; inexperience and innocence were among his most attractive qualities. That, and his unwavering loyalty and unprecedented bravery. 

Alec bit his lower lip in a gesture that always made Magnus lose his train of thought, a gesture that had been one of Magnus’ most treasured memories during those months they had been apart. Wanting to feel the sensation of that flesh between his own teeth, Magnus leaned in and kissed Alec deeply, more passion in the kiss than he had originally intended. He would have continued kissing Alec forever, but his mind could not get rid of the image of Alec biting his lip, so he forced himself to break the kiss so he could capture with his teeth that much-desired lip. He gently bit down, not too hard, just enough, and the loud intake of air with which Alec rewarded him was a match lighting a bonfire in the center of his body. 

Alec let go of the hand he had been holding since before they stepped through the portal and wrapped both his arms around Magnus’ waist. In an uncharacteristically daring gesture, he slid his hands lower, cupped Magnus’ behind and pulled him to him. The feel of Magnus’s strong body and the firm sensation of Magnus’ desire reawaked his own yearning and erased all other thoughts that were not of the feel of this fascinating creature in his arms. It was now him the one to claim that mouth which memory had plagued his nights and days since that morning in the hospital. With a gentle gesture, he enticed Magnus to part his lips so he could send his own tongue in a mission of exploration of Magnus’ mouth, tracing with it his lips, inviting Magnus’ tongue to dance with his own. 

In no time, one of Magnus’ hands was in Alec’s hair, his fingers entangled in the dark silky mane. Instinctively and without breaking contact, he pulled Alec towards the couch, and as soon he felt its edge against the back of his legs, he turned and gently but resolutely pushed Alec to a sitting position. Without stopping the ministrations of his mouth, he sat astride him, the surprised gasp that escaped Alec igniting, even more, the fire already burning within him. The feel of Alec’s strong hips trapped between his legs took him to an even higher level of arousal. At that moment, Magnus was sure that Alec could feel his heartbeats through the layers of cloth that separated them, for his heart was suddenly doing its best to escape his chest.   

With deft fingers, Alec began to undo the buttons in Magnus’ shirt, tracing with his lips the path down the warlock’s neck and chest that the parting fabric revealed. Off their own accord and in a dance that was as old as time, Magnus’ hips began to move against Alec, his body calling for Alec, and Alec responding without delay or restrain. With the hand that still cupped the warlock’s behind, Alec pulled him even closer and loud gasps escaped from each of their throats, as their bodies almost fused together, as each of them recognized the signs of desire in the other’s body: the hardness, the quickness in their breathing, the hunger of their kiss. 

A thought crossed Alec’s mind: a wish that Magnus would use his magic to vanish the clothes that separated them, so he could feel what he knew was the marvelous sensation of Magnus’ soft skin against his own. 

Almost at the same time that the thought popped into Alec’s mind, a chuckle escaped Magnus’ lips and when Alec looked up, the blazing cat eyes of the warlock met his own. “Don’t put ideas in my head Shadowhunter,” Magnus said, his voice husky. “I am not in complete control of my powers yet. I could make more than clothes disappear and where would we be then?” 

The statement should have surprised Alec, but his mind was too full of thoughts of Magnus. Instead, he replied with a sensual and playful smile and a shrug of his shoulders, the gesture trying to appear apologetic but failing. Without a word, he invited Magnus to kiss him once again and Magnus obeyed because he knew exactly what Alec was asking because there was no need for words.      

Alec went back to the task of undoing the buttons in Magnus’ shirt. As soon as he did the last one, and with sure hands, he pulled the garment down the warlock’s back trapping his arms in the sleeves and revealing Magnus’s muscular abdomen, round shoulders, and a broad chest that was an invitation to his tongue to explore. He then proceeded to kiss and then bite each of Magnus’ shoulders, rejoicing in the feel and sweet taste of hard muscle and tanned skin, inhaling the arousing scent of bergamot and fresh air that was all and completely Magnus. Gently, he traced a path with his mouth towards Magnus’ chest until he reached that spot atop Magnus’ heart where he knew he would find a new scar: a scar that was, in reality, a rune, a unique and magic rune, the rune that had brought this man back from the dead, back to Alec’s life. “Does this hurt?” he asked between kisses. 

Magnus opened his eyes and looked down at Alec, and the mixture of concern and desire in that youthful face melted his heart a little. Placing a hand under Alec’s chin, he made Alec look up at him. He then kissed him on the lips once again, the kiss more tender than passionate. “I owe you my life. How could that hurt?” 

“I was so afraid that I would kill you while trying to save you,” Alec stated, his expression now wistful. “I don’t know what I would have done if…” 

“Shush,” Magnus interrupted as he placed a finger against Alec’s lips to silence him. He knew exactly what Alec was going to say but did not want the words out in the open, not at this moment of such intimacy and joy. He then leaned forward. “Let’s not spoil this moment with dark memories,” he whispered as his seized Alec’s mouth once again, the kiss quickly turning from tender to passionate to ravenous. Magnus wanted to erase with his mouth all bad memories from Alec’s mind, until only this moment mattered, until only the sensation of their bodies recognizing each other after such a long absence existed. 

At first, Alec responded to the kiss with equal passion, but after a moment, he reluctantly pulled away. “I have wanted you so much that I am afraid that I might not be gentle with you,” he whispered between shallow breaths. “You are still recovering. You are still in pain; I can feel it. I have waited for weeks; I can wait a little longer until you are fully recovered.” 

“Look at me, Alexander,” Magnus said, his eyes searching for Alec’s eyes and finding there the evidence of the battle between restrain and desire waging in the Shadowhunter. “Do I look like someone who wants to wait? You have wanted this for weeks; I have wanted it for over a year. Believe me when I tell you that it is me the one who is most worried about not being gentle. You have nothing to worry about. I need this as much as you.” 

After one more moment of hesitation, Alec smiled broadly, the smile almost blinding. Finally letting go of the concerns that had briefly clouded his mind, he lifted a hand to the back of Magnus’ head and pulled him to him for a kiss that was surprisingly tender and full of fire. Without breaking the kiss, he let his hand leisurely travel down the middle of Magnus’ back, awakening every nerve ending on its path, until he reached the warlock’s hips. Once there, he firmly held Magnus’ hips against his own body and with the astonishing strength of a Nephilim and without letting go of Magnus, stood up. He took two certain steps towards a spot in front of the fireplace where a soft rug awaited. Once there, and without letting go of his hold on Magnus, he went down on his knees, deposited the warlock on the rug and came to lie on top of him. The change in their position did not surprise Magnus because he knew that Alec was stronger than he looked, because Alec had heeded his own silent desire, and because the feel of Alec’ weight on him made all thoughts fly from his mind, until only the thought of Alec’s mouth and body moving against his own occupied every one of his brain cells. 

It was then Magnus the one who, after helping Alec peel off his jacket, undid the buttons on his shirt. Loud gasps escaped both their lips at the moment in which their skins finally touched, the sensation of skin against skin, of their bodies breathing and moving together, of their hearts beating so close to one another pushing them beyond reason. It was now Magnus’ tongue the one to trace a path down Alec’s neck, and it was him the one to feel the indescribable pleasure of having Alec’s hip moving against him. 

“Magnus,” Alec said between gasps a while later. “I want to run my tongue along every inch of you. I want to taste all of you starting with…” Instead of continuing, Alec bent and run his tongue over the scar atop Magnus’ heart – that scar that was, in fact, a rune. The sensation of tongue against tender skin sent shivers down Magnus’ spine and goosebumps rose all over his skin. “And then here,” Alec added a moment later as his tongue sought and in a maddeningly slow-motion encircled one of Magnus’s nipples. Magnus’ back involuntarily arched, and another loud and blissful gasp escaped his lips and Alec responded with another circle of his wicked tongue. All thoughts escaped Magnus’ mind, all thoughts that were not of Alec’s blessed tongue, of his strong body pinning him down to the floor, of the feel of skin against skin. 

Alec gave a wonderful and pleasure-filled groan in response to the feel of Magnus’ nipple in his mouth. His mind and body were filled with the confusing sensations of tongue touching skin and of skin touched by tongue. It was as if each one of Magnus’ sounds of pleasure and desire reverberated in his own body, exponentially multiplying his own pleasure and desire. It was as if he was not only feeling his own pleasure at having this man in his arms, but also the pleasure that Magnus felt.   

At some point, one of them, or both - neither of them remembered – rolled, switching their positions until Alec laid on his back, the sensation of Magnus’ body on him, and the feel of Magnus’ hips trapped between his own indescribable. Alec opened his eyes and looked up at Magnus. “I have fantasized doing this since that night I went to your apartment,” he said, reaching behind Magnus’ neck and with practiced fingers undoing the string that trapped Magnus’ long hair. He then run his fingers through that long black hair until it flowed down Magnus’ face and shoulders in a cascade of jet-black thick strands. “I like your hair long,” he said. 

Magnus bent down and kissed him, his long hair shielding their kiss from the world, the strands caressing Alec’s face and shoulders. At that moment, Alec discovered that his imagination had not done justice to the reality of running his fingers freely through Magnus’ hair, of feeling the delighting sensation of that hair on his skin as Magnus drew a path of kisses down Alec’s neck, chest, and abdomen.   

Neither of them would recall later how or when they removed the remaining of their clothes, but at some point, someone’s hand was in someone’s belt buckle, someone was pulling down a zipper, someone’s hands were traveling underneath someone’s pants, someone was kicking off shoes. One thing they would recall for sure: they were not in a rush. Despite waiting for this moment for so long that they felt they would die of desire if they did not give free rein to their passion, they took their time getting to know one another once again, savoring each other, mapping the geography and staking a claim to every corner of each other’s body. They wanted to delay gratification as much as possible, trying to extend to infinity the satisfaction that came from their fingers, mouths and hands exploring, recognizing and extracting pleasure from their bodies. 

They did not feel the need to speak more than necessary. Instead, they let themselves read each other’s mind, anticipate each other’s needs, answer the demands of each other’s flesh. There was no need for magic or Nephilim powers either. As they became reacquainted with each other’s skin and body, they became, not a Nephilim and a Downworlder, but two beings moving at unison, two souls linked by an unbreakable bond, two minds sharing the same thoughts, two hearts beating as one. 

Alec and Magnus became completely oblivious to the world around them, to the setting sun that ignited the mountains in incandescent red, to the orange twilight that slowly turned into night, to the call of birds, to the gentle freeze that made the leaves dance in the tree branches, to the chill in the air. 

“My body and my soul are yours Magnus,” Alec whispered a long time later when he felt his chest would explode if he continued delaying the climax that had been building inside him. The sensation of Magnus moving atop him driving him almost to insanity.

Magnus paused halfway between the sweet spot underneath Alec’s ear and the even sweeter spot at the base of his neck. He looked at Alec, the Shadowhunter’s eyes burning, and he felt that he was the luckiest men alive. He had been with many people before, men and women. At one point or another, each of those relationships had reached a moment of negotiation, a moment in which the power dynamics were settled, a moment in which who took the most and who gave the most was determined. Those determinations did not only have to do with the act of lovemaking and they always involved some form of greediness and selfishness. Yet now with Alec, as it had been from the very beginning, Magnus did not feel that they needed to negotiate the terms of their relationship. Now as it had always been with the two of them, making love was an act of mutual giving and mutual receiving, of mutual surrender and of mutual conquering, of the generous offering of themselves to the other without expectation or demand. That essential quality of their love was what had made Magnus realize that this relationship was like no other, that he might live a thousand years and never find another one like Alec. 

Not waiting for an answer and for what was likely the hundredth time since they had begun this dance of love, Alec entangled his fingers in Magnus’ hair and pulled him closer. Astonishingly, the kiss was even more ardent than any before, and with that kiss Alec made Magnus forget everything, any hesitation he might have felt and any though that was not about Alec’s lips and the incredible sensation of Alec’s naked body inviting him to lose himself in it. 

Alec and Magnus surrendered then to the whirlwind of their lovemaking, as they each urged the other to climb to ever greater levels of arousal; as they each lost himself in the incredible sensation of the other’s body; as they each gave and took in equal measure; as they each gave himself to the other. 

“Alexander,” Magnus called out between gritted teeth a moment or a decade later, “I am…”, he started to say but the words caught in his throat. It did not matter because Alec did not need to know what Magnus was. His mind was already full of Magnus’ wanting, he could already feel the muscles in Magnus’ whole body tensing in preparation for an orgasm so powerful that Alec knew would take them both in its current. Alec became incapable of all rational thought as he let Magnus take him over the edge. 

“Mag..” Alec tried to say as he attempted to hold on for a split second longer, wanting to delay bliss for just one more moment. But even as he spoke, he knew it was futile, for he was already taking flight, for Magnus had already taken him to the limits of his own endurance, for there was not trying to delay the wave that was already carrying him to even higher peaks. Gasps caught in each of their throats and for what felt like an eternity, they remained frozen in time and space, their bodies tight muscles, their minds completely blank, their spirits soaring together somewhere beyond this world.   

“By the Angel, Alexander,” Magnus said between gasps when he finally recovered his capacity for speech. “I feel my heart is about to jump out of my chest.” His forehead rested on Alec’s chest and Alec's hand was still entangled in his hair. 

“Are you okay?” Alec asked also between gasps. “Was that okay?” he then added. 

Magnus’s smile was blinding when he looked up. “Alexander,” he said, “that was epic.” He leaned in and kissed each of Alec’s eyelids, the kiss tender and loving. 

“I know you love me,” Alec whispered as he wrapped his arms around Magnus and enticed him to rest his head on his chest. Magnus had to smile because he realized that there were now very few things he could hide from Alec. 

“I do,” he simply said. 

“You know that I love you too, don’t you?” 

Magnus did not reply because Alec was correct, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Alec loved him, and that the love they shared was unsurmountable. Instead, he looked up and sought Alec’s mouth for yet another kiss, the heat of the kiss surprising them both and making them realize that the night was far from over, that there was still too much unspent passion between them, that what they have just done was simply the preamble to a night of slow and I unhurried lovemaking, that they have not finished yet healing the wounds caused by months of separation and forgetfulness. 

“Come,” Alec said a minute or an hour later, “if I remember correctly, there is a bedroom with a very comfortable bed in this place.” With the graceful movements of a Nephilim, he stood up and extending his hand to Magnus guided him through the set of French doors leading to the master bedroom. 

The bedroom was as spacious as Magnus remembered, with an enormous canopy bed covered in crisp white linen surrounded by flowing and almost translucent white curtains. A single nightlight on a table beside a love seat by the fireplace illuminated the room. Magnus started for the bed, but Alec stopped him. Instead, he pulled him closer, renewed desire clearly evident on his naked body and in the passion with which he took possession of Magnus’ mouth. The hand that was not holding Magnus’ hand found refuge in his hair once again, the feel of fingers running through his hair, sending new waves of pleasure down Magnus’ spine. 

“You are cold,” Alec stated between kisses and without breaking contact with Magnus, reached for a switch on the wall, the switch that lighted the gas fireplace. An orange glow soon competed with the nightlight for the privilege of illuminating their naked bodies still entangled in a tight embrace. 

Alec continued kissing Magnus with ever-increasing demand, taking and giving with unprecedented generosity and greediness. He eventually guided him to the sofa and it was now him the one to entice Magnus to sit, as he proceeded to kneel in front of him and fulfill his fantasy of running his mouth and tongue through every corner of Magnus’ body, reawakening every nerve ending in Magnus, making every millimeter of the warlock’s skin catch fire and burn. 

They did not make it to the bed until much, much later and by the time he finally leaned back on soft sheets, Magnus was almost blind with desire, unable to contain any longer the need to have Alec possess his body and soul. The wait proved worthwhile, for Alec was as generous as he was demanding, as he took Magnus towards an even more incredible climax than the one before. The Shadowhunter became a tsunami building and building momentum carrying Magnus along to even greater heights, until they both broke like an enormous wave against the rocks, a wave that broke apart into millions of water particles that, for what felt like an eternity, floated in the air before falling to the ground in soft mist. 

As he fell against Magnus’ chest, Alec felt like every joint in his body had become disarticulated and that his brain had lost all capacity for coherent thought. “I think I just died,” he whispered between shuddering breaths. He then rested his ear against Magnus’ chest, the sensation of the warlock’s steady heartbeat soothing him as his soul slowly came back to his body.   

“I love you, Alexander,” Magnus said after a long silence in which they each listened to the other’s settling breathing. “I don’t know how I survived all those months away from you. During that time, I was only half alive.” 

“I am sorry,” Alec replied as he looked at Magnus, his eyes full of tenderness and regret. “I am so sorry you had to go through that.” 

“It is not your fault.” Magnus gently kissed the Shadowhunter on the forehead. 

“I know it is not the same,” Alec continued. “But even though I did not remember you, during all that time we were apart, I felt a terrible emptiness inside me, like something fundamental, was missing from my life.” This was not the first time that Alec had spoken these words. During that endless night in which Magnus fought for his life, Alec had sat by his bedside, holding his hand, and had told him about the months in which he had felt an absence which causes he did not understand, a yearning for someone he could not remember. He had told Magnus about the cat eyes that invaded his dreams and the way he could not help looking towards the door as if he was waiting for something or someone that never arrived. “I am sorry we wasted a whole year,” he added after a moment. “I promise that I will make it up to you, that if you let me, I will never again leave your side.” 

Magnus smiled, a smile that managed to erase all thoughts of absence and longing. Instinctually, he reached for something on his chest, and Alec knew that he was looking for the Lightwood ring that had been hanging from a silver chain there. “I have it,” Alec stated. “We had to remove it when Jason and Catarina were treating you. It is in the pocket of my jeans. I was going to give it back to you, but you distracted me.” 

At some point during that horrible night, Alec had noticed the chain around Magnus’ neck and the familiar sight of his family ring, the silver shining under the hospital lights. A few days after he handed him the will, Jace had told him that he had sent the ring to Magnus in an attempt to get him to come to Idris and help Alec. Jace had also told him that after their deal with Zadkiel, Magnus had tried to give the ring back, but that he had asked him to keep it, suspecting even then that Alec would never find anyone else he loved enough to want to give them his family ring. 

Not sure he was ready to have that conversation with Magnus Alec had not mentioned the ring during the first few weeks after their reunion. Perhaps he did not know how he would feel if Magnus told him that the ring had meant nothing to him, that he had lost it somewhere along his travels. That night when Jason removed the chain from around Magnus’ neck and handed it to Alec, he had cradled the ring in his hand, the metal still warm from where it had rested against Magnus’ skin. The chain was bloody, but it and the ring had managed to survive the attack that was slowly taking Magnus’ life. Alec had sat with it in his hand, wishing the ring to become a lifeline that he could use to keep Magnus with him. 

At some point and as if by instinct, he had reached into his pant pockets and had extracted the folded sheet of paper one of the paramedics had handed him in Magnus’ apartment, the sheet of paper that had been in Magnus’ hand. Slowly and carefully so as to not rip it, he had unfolded the letter. He had immediately recognized his own handwriting and the words with which he had declared a love so great that he had sacrificed his own happiness for Magnus. He had called Magnus, “my Magnus, my love.” He had told Magnus that he would love him in this world and in the next and although he did not yet completely remember everything about his past life with the warlock, he had known that the words were the truest words he had ever written. He had known that even if he had just recovered Magnus, the feelings he had put on paper all those months before were as old as time itself; they were an unmovable and unbreakable vow.   

“You don’t have to give the ring back to me,” Magnus now said. “It belongs to your family.” 

“No,” Alec replied and his eyes on Magnus were intense and loving. “The ring belongs to you in the same way that my heart belongs to you.” 

“Alexander,” Magnus replied with a sigh. “You make me the happiest man alive.” He searched for Alec’s lips then, and this time the kiss was a form of homecoming, a union of souls and spirits, an invitation to becoming one. 

They kissed long and leisurely, each of them rejoicing in the taste of a reawaken passion. Alec reached and entangled his fingers in Magnus’ hair once again, gently holding him in place so his mouth could thoroughly explore the warlock’s. A fire that had not complexly died despite hours of lovemaking, rapidly burst into flames inside their chests and before either of them knew what was happening, their bodies were once again moving together, seeking new pleasures, new heights, new sensations of connectedness and completeness. 

This time, making love with Magnus was more than just the union of bodies, more than the reunion of souls, more than simply the sharing of passion and desire. This time, Alec felt that each touch and each kiss brought down the walls he kept around his most intimate thoughts. He felt that his mind and his heart were opening up to let Magnus in, and as they did, a sensation of connectedness and wholeness filled him. Before he lost once again all capacity to formulate a coherent idea, he thought that he and Magnus were sharing not only their bodies but also their minds, that he could anticipate what Magnus wanted him to do, where he wanted him to kiss and touch him, how he wanted his body to move. A rush of images invaded his mind, and for a moment, he saw himself through Magnus’ eyes and felt the vibrations running through Magnus’ body as if they were running through his own body. 

Magnus turned his face up towards the ceiling, opened his eyes and gasped in surprise, and an exquisite sound of pleasure escaped from the very center of his chest. If Alec had been capable of coherence, he would have thought that Magnus too was reading his mind, that his own thoughts had traveled through their newly discovered bond and were now filling Magnus’ mind with ever more lustful and loving images.   

“Alexander,” Magnus called out at the moment of their shared climax. “I can feel you feeling me.” They were both lost them, overcome by the most powerful of sensations, an orgasm that was not just a physical union, but a sharing of minds and hearts. Even as they eventually began to come back to the earth, they both knew that they were not done yet, that this new connection was addictive, that they could not so simply will themselves to stop. 

Hours later, as the sky slowly turned a cerulean shade of blue, and the imposing silhouette of the Alps slowly became visible through the windows, Alec and Magnus felt back onto the bed for the last time, their desire, at least for now, sated. Alec gathered Magnus in his arms, sighed deeply and said: “I love you Magnus Bane, do not ever leave me again.” 

“Shadowhunter,” Magnus replied as he nuzzled the crook of Alec’s neck, inhaling the inebriating scent of the Shadowhunter mixed with his own. “Even if I wanted to, I could never part from you. But you do know my powers are still weak, don’t you? Are you trying to kill me?” 

“This is the only way I can keep up with you Warlock,” Alec said with a low chuckle. He sighed again, with each breath his body surrendering to an exquisite state of exhaustion. 

The slowing rhythm of Alec’s breathing began to soothe Magnus into his own state of relaxation. A minute later, the warlock sighed deeply and brought his nose even closer to the crook of Alec’s neck as he let the Shadowhunter guide him into the deepest and most restful sleep he had had in months.

 

**I think this chapter still needs some work, but I hope you will enjoy it**.


	12. The Angel's Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They sealed their promise with a gentle and tender kiss, the mountains, the birds and the flowers silent witnesses to a love so immense and a commitment so strong that nothing could ever come between them. At that moment, it did not matter to either of them what the future might have in store, what wars or conflicts they might have to confront. For their love and bond were unbreakable and ever-enduring.

The morning was well on its way to becoming afternoon when Alec sighed deeply and reluctantly opened his eyes, the spring sunlight hitting his pupils and, for an instant, blinding him. The gauzy curtains that Magnus had likely drawn around the canopy bed the night before gave Alec the impression of floating within a white cloud.

At first, he did not remember where he was, but when he turned and saw Magnus asleep beside him, memories from the night before rushed back to him: Magnus’ fingers running along his skin; Magnus’ strong arms holding him while wave after wave of pleasure hit him and washed over him; his own nose resting on the crook of Magnus’ neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent; Magnus’ magnificent body moving with his own, beckoning him to ever more intense levels of ecstasy. Something tightened in Alec’s stomach at the memory of the night he had just spent in Magnus’s arms and renewed heat rose from the center of his chest towards his face, awakening desire and putting all kinds of lustful ideas in his mind.

Careful not to wake Magnus, he gently turned, propped himself up on an elbow and looked at the warlock’s sleeping figure. Magnus was laying on his back, one arm crossed over his chest and the other resting on the pillow above his head. His even and soft breathing and the way in which his eyes rapidly moved behind closed eyelids were clear evidence that Magnus slept soundly and peacefully. Except for a strand that fell over his face and which Alec brushed aside with gentle fingers, his long hair had spilled like an ebony cascade all over the white pillow.

Taking advantage of the opportunity to unhinderedly watch Magnus, Alec run a greedy gaze over his sleeping face, down his long neck, muscular chest and stomach and continuing lower and lower over the parts of Magnus’ naked body concealed under the covers. He thought, not for the first time, that Magnus was beautiful. His sleeping face reflected a youth that would never go away. His body was not only magnificent and strong but was also capable of moving with such grace and agility that no one who did not know what Magnus was would ever suspect that he was over three hundred years old. The thought of what Magnus could do with that body, of the way in which he had used that body the night before to give Alec a night filled with pleasure, caused another wave of desire to spread from the center of his chest. 

He could wake him, Alec thought. He could kiss those wonderfully full lips with passion capable of pulling Magnus from the depth of sleep. He could run gentle fingers along his face and down his chest slowly awaking his senses. He could run his tongue down the middle of his chest or draw with it the sensual circle of his nipples. He could explore the territories now hidden under the white sheets arousing Magnus’ body before his brain could catch up. However, he resisted the impulse, wanting to bask in the incredible vision of Magnus’ sleeping face and restful slumber, knowing that there was no rush, that he could wait a little longer, that Magnus was not going anywhere.

He wanted to run fingers through Magnus’ hair but stopped himself. Instead, he feasted in the pleasure of having that magnificent creature so near and so unguardedly his. As his eyes leisurely traveled over the planes and curves of Magnus’ chest once more, his gaze stopped at the mark atop Magnus’ heart, the scar a reminder of a terrible night, a risky gamble and a yet unconceivable miracle. 

Magnus had been dying. Jason and Catarina had managed to restart his heart so many times that Alec had lost count. Yet, Magnus’ soul could not keep its hold on this world and his body was rapidly weakening. The angelic energy from the Dáinsleif dagger had been coursing through Magnus’ veins, poisoning him and rendering any attempts to cure him by magic futile. After the massive blood loss, the hours of fighting for his life, Magnus had been at the limits of his endurance.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Catarina had said sometime in the early hours of the mourning, and her voice had been full of misery. Alec, who was still sitting by his bedside and who had been holding Magnus’ hand to his lips, had looked up and seen in her expression a look of desperation that mirrored his own. “I have tried everything I can think of,” she had added as she wrung her hands together.

“What do you mean?” Alec has asked, his tone incredulous. Catarina was not only a powerful and ancient warlock, but she was also an expert in healing, someone with centuries of experience in mundane and magic healing practices. Yet, at that moment, her expression had been the expression of a lost child. 

“We managed to stop the bleeding, but he has lost a lot of blood, and the angelic energy of the dagger is acting as a poison that counteracts and destroys any magic still present in Magnus’ blood. It is also interfering with all the potions and the mundane medicines we have tried, not to mention with my own attempts to use my powers. His body is shutting down, Alec. He cannot hold on much longer. I feel him sleeping away.”

“But there must be something we can do,” Alec had pleaded. “We cannot lose him, Catarina, we can’t, I can’t, not now that I just found him again.” Alec’s words had been the words of a drowning man, desperate for any hope, willing to do anything.

“I don’t know what else to try,” Catarina had replied. “You have to understand that angelic energy and demonic blood don’t mix. Angelic powers are lethal to Downworlders.” Alec had always thought that Catarina was a no-nonsense kind of person, straight as an arrow, at times even acerbic, but at that moment, Catarina’s tone had been dejected and desolate. She was one of Magnus’ closest friends; the two of them had been in each other’s lives for centuries, and now she was about to lose him too. 

“I may have an idea,” Jason had stated from the corner of the room in which he had been silently looking at something in the computer. “It is a farfetched and likely dangerous proposition, and it will probably not work, but it is the only thing we have not tried.”

“Okay, what is it?” Alec responded turning to the werewolf, daring not to hope yet.

“It is actually two ideas, I think. Or rather a dual procedure,” Jason stated. “He has lost a lot of blood,” he added as he stood and began to pace the room, speaking as much to himself as to Catarina and Alec. “The blood still in his veins is poisoned. If he was a mundane, we would be recommending a transfusion to replenish what he has lost. In cases of blood contamination, we would also recommend dialysis to filter out the contaminant.”

“But Jason,” Catarina had interrupted. “The only person here whose blood might be remotely compatible with Magnus’ is me, but as soon as my demonic blood enters his system, the angelic energy will contaminate it.”

“I understand that but, listen, we can try both procedures at the same time. We can filter the angelic contaminants from his blood at the same time that we transfuse enough blood into his system so he can build the strength to replenish his own.”

“There is no guarantee that the dialysis machine will filter angelic energy,” Catarina had stated, acting as devil’s advocate. “Mundane medical equipment does not work on Downworlders.”  

“I know, but how about if we go old school and use someone with angelic connection as both filter and blood donor?” Jason had looked at Alec straight in the face as he said these words, and his gaze had been full of meaning.

“Jason,” Catarina had stated, dawning realization and renewed fear creeping into her voice. “That would certainly kill Magnus and there is no certainty it would not also kill Alec. It is too risky, not to mention that if the Clave ever found out, we would all be executed after the shortest trial in the history of Nephilim justice.”

“I’ll do it,” Alec had replied ignoring Catarina’s warning and fixing his gaze on Jason with the same intensity as the werewolf’s gaze. 

“Alec, you don’t understand,” Catarina had tried to reason. “Demonic and angelic blood don’t mix well. Having demonic blood running through your system would be extremely dangerous, and there is no telling what you blood would do to Magnus. We can kill him while trying to save him.”

“You said so already,” Alec had argued, “he is dying and there are no other ideas on the table. It is time for extreme measures.”

“Listen to me Catarina,” Jason had reasoned. “I think there is enough angelic energy in Magnus’ blood to make it safe for Alec, and enough to protect Magnus during the transfusion. He needs to accept Alec’s blood just long enough for his powers to kick in. We can do a direct transfusion and let Alec’s system filter the angelic power out of Magnus’ blood. I won’t deny that it is risky, but as Alec says we are out of options.”

“Jason…” Catarina had started to say.

“I will do it,” Alec had resolutely interrupted, not giving the warlock another chance to come up with new reasons not to do what Jason suggested. “Catarina, it is okay,” he had added looking at her straight in the eyes. “I know the risks, but Magnus and I share a connection that goes beyond the differences between our species. I am certain that he will not hurt me, and I will not hurt him.” As he said these words, Alec had squeezed his hand around the Lightwood ring he had been holding ever since Jason had handed it to him. 

“You are putting an awful lot of faith in the feelings you have for each other, and in the farfetched plan of a werewolf,” Catarina had finally said. She had not renewed her protests, however, and Alec suspected she had resigned herself to do her best to keep her best friend and his mad boyfriend alive. 

“You should tell Jace,” Jason had said then. “This is going to be painful and dangerous; you are going to need the strength of your parabatai.”

“It is better if Jace is not involved,” Alec had replied. “Catarina said so already: what we are planning is illegal.”

“Believe me,” Jason stated. “There is no keeping this from him; he will sense what is happening through your parabatai bond, and you will need his strength.”

Alec had left Catarina and Jason to make all the needed preparations then and had gone out on the hallway to call Jace. His heart had been pounding in his chest, renewed hope replacing desperation. He had been completely certain when he had told Jason and Catarina that Magnus would not hurt him, and as he dialed his brother’s number, he fought with all his might to keep doubt from creeping back in.  

“We will have to connect central lines here and here,” Jason had been saying to Catarina when Alec walked back into the room a couple of minutes later. He had been pointing to two spots on Magnus’ torso, as with a gauze he cleaned away the blood that still covered most of the warlock’s chest.  

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” Catarina had asked in return and her voice had been heavy with doubt and fear.

“We are in undiscovered territory, Catarina. But I am a good doctor, if I may say so myself, and you are the best nurse I have ever had the chance to work with. If anyone can pull this off it is us.”

“It is okay Catarina,” Alec had said as he took his seat by Magnus’ bedside. “I am leaving instructions with Jace and Izzy that if anything goes wrong, they are to make sure that no one ever finds out your role in this mess. This is on me.”

Less than half an hour later, Alec had been lying on a stretcher beside Magnus. Catarina had attached a tube to a vein in his neck, a tube that split into two lines. One went into Magnus’ lower neck, into a vein that Catarina had called the superior vena cava; the other went into another vein a few centimeters below, into the inferior vena cava. Alec was no doctor, but for what he gathered, one line would transport the contaminated blood from Magnus to Alec and once Alec’s system removed the angelic energy from it, it would return to Magnus mixed with his own blood through the other line. The mechanics of the procedure seemed awfully simple for something that was so extremely complicated and dangerous.  

Jace and Izzy had arrived a few minutes after Alec’s phone call and, after reporting that Lorenzo was finally in custody and under heavy guard in the cells of the Institute, Jason and Catarina had walked them through the procedure. Even though deep looks of concern and fear had immediately taken possession of Jace and Izzy’s expressions, they had not protested or tried to dissuade Alec. They had just nodded in response to Alec’s request that they promise to keep Jason and Catarina’s involvement from the Clave if things went wrong. They had all then taken oaths of secrecy vowing never to reveal what would transpire in that room that night. Afterward, Jace had sat by Alec’s bedside and had put a hand firmly on his shoulder, prepared to be by his brother’s side come what may. Alec had extended his hand and taken Magnus’ cold hand, determined not to let go for any reason.  

“You saved my life that night Alexander. You brought me back.” 

Magnus’ soft voice pulled Alec back to the here and now, to where he laid beside the warlock. He had been so lost in the memories of that night that Alec had not noticed when he had begun to draw the lines of the rune on Magnus’ chest with his finger, the rune he had drawn there as a last resort when he had felt Magnus’ life slipping away from him. He had expected the rune to eventually disappear, but it was still as clearly visible as it had been when Alec first drew it.

“I am sorry; I did not mean to wake you.”

“I would happily have your gentle touch wake me every morning, Alexander,” Magnus whispered.   

“Does this hurt?” Alec asked as his finger continued drawing the rune. 

“Not really.”

“Are you sure?” Alec asked again. “You would tell me if it hurt, wouldn’t you?”

“I suspect I would not have to.” Magnus reached with one hand and brushed a lock of hair away from Alec’s forehead, the touch gentle and loving. “I suspect you would feel it if I was in pain, as I think I would also feel it if you were in pain.”

“Do you think so?” Alec’s eyes on Magnus were searching.

“I may have been out of it for most of the ordeal,” Magnus replied. “But I do remember the important parts. I felt the connection, the way in which that night we shared more than blood. I felt that connection again last night, didn’t you feel it?”

“I think I did,” Alec replied quietly. He had felt it, closeness and intimacy that went beyond the physical and that he could only describe as the sharing of thoughts, feelings and sensations, a sharing that did not require words. Last night, Alec had felt on his own skin, the sensations that his own caresses provoked on Magnus, the way in which his touch cause goosebumps to rise on Magnus’ skin, the indescribable sensation of each of Magnus’ climaxes as if they had been his own. It had been as if the sensations in each of their bodies had bounced against one another, growing exponentially, intensifying almost to infinity the feel of each touch, of each kiss, of each quiver, tremor and movement. Each orgasm had been a wave bouncing between them, building in intensity with each of their rejoinders.  Not only that, but Alec was sure that at times he had been able to read Magnus’ thoughts and that Magnus too had read his. As their lovemaking grew in intensity and closeness, there had no longer been a need for words as they each became capable of reading and anticipating the other’s desire. 

Alec had felt a similar connection that night at the hospital when Magnus’s blood had begun to enter his system and his had begun to flow into Magnus. As Magnus’ blood entered his bloodstream, a searing pain had first seized every cell of Alec’s body. It was as if his skin and organs were suddenly being scorched by acid, burning him from the inside out. Alec had clenched his fist and his jaw, determined not to scream or show weakness, resolute to withstand the torments of hell if that meant that Magnus would pull through. 

Jace’s hold on his arm had tightened and when Alec turned to look at his brother, he had seen a similar expression of pain on Jace’s face. A few moments later, the stamina rune on Jace’s arm had begun to glow as his brother drew strength from it. 

Suddenly and without warning, every single rune on Alec’s skin had glowed golden and then burnt away, as the demonic and angelic energies in Magnus’ blood entered and begun to course through Alec’s system. Alec could only describe the sensation as jarring. He had felt unprotected and suddenly weak without his angelic runes, a feeble human faced with the insurmountable task of keeping the one he loved alive.

Izzy had drawn another stamina rune on Jace, but when she made to do the same on Alec, Jason had stopped her. “We don’t know what a rune would do to Alec or Magnus,” he had argued, “we need to let the treatment run its course.”

Alec had breathed through the pain pushing with his mind beyond it. As he did, he felt something click inside him, something unexpected and surprising. As Magnus’ blood reached to every cell in his body, it seemed to have unlocked something inside Alec, a coffer of memories that had until then still remained locked away. His mind filled with images: memories of the first time he saw Magnus; the way in which the warlock had singled him out with a gaze so intense that Alec had felt the rest of the world disappear; the first time Alec had kissed those lips; their first night together; the many times they laid side by side talking and laughing well into the night; the memory of his decision to ask his mother for the family ring and of telling her he was going to ask Magnus to marry him; the terrible decision to sacrifice his happiness for Magnus; the look of agony in Magnus’s face as he had walked away; the will and the letter. The images had been crisp, and Alec had felt like he was being transported into the past, into a world that until then he had only glimpsed through a veil. 

Eventually, Magnus’ blood carried his own thoughts into Alec’s mind and a cacophony of unfamiliar images rushed into his thoughts, too many to count or to make sense of. He recognized, however, his own face, young, curious and innocent, seen through the warlock’s eyes; his own smile; the sensation of his own touch as his fingers run through Magnus’ skin; the incredible sadness when Alec left him; the months of wondering in a strange land, unable to forget, yearning every day for Alec. 

The experience was so overwhelming, the overload of images, sensations and memories so intense that they almost overshadowed the physical pain. Alec had wanted to let go of his hold on reality, let unconscious take him, and for a minute or perhaps two, his mind had wondered off. A vision had come to him: a vision of him and Magnus standing together in a fog so dense that Alec could not see where they were. Magnus had taken his hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. The vision had been so real that Alec was sure he had felt the caress of Magnus’ lips on his knuckles. But then Magnus had let go of his hand, his eyes full of desperation and sadness as a force pulled him away and the fog began to swallow him. Alec had reached with his fingers, not wanting to let go, but Magnus was already gone. At that precise moment, Magnus had begun to convulse, his whole body becoming a tight shaking muscle, his back a stiff arch against the mattress, his eyes rolling back in his head, and his mouth filled with foam. 

“Hold him down,” Catarina has ordered, her voice tight with urgency and panic. Izzy had gone to help and between her, Catarina and Jason had held Magnus down, trying to keep him from pulling the lines from his chest. 

“We are losing him!” Jason had said.

“Come on, your troublesome warlock,” Catarina had called out almost at the same time. “Don’t do this to us, fight, damn it!” 

Magnus’ veins had glowed golden then as if instead of blood, his veins were carrying pure gold. “There is too much angelic energy in his system,” Jason had said. “We need to interrupt the transfusion.”

“Wait,” Alec had stopped him before the werewolf removed the tube. He did not know what he had been thinking. For years afterward, he would wonder who had put the idea in his head, or where the idea had come from. At times, he would think that he had acted out of pure instinct, or perhaps guided by some mysterious force he did not have the capacity to comprehend. 

“Hand me my stele,” he had asked Jace. He had then sat up, breathing past his own pain and pushing away all thoughts that were not of Magnus dying in the bed beside him. With shaking fingers, and as if another hand had been guiding his, he had brought the tip of the stele to Magnus’ chest and with as fluid a motion as he could manage, had drawn a single rune there, a rune so sacred and ancient that it could no longer be found in any sacred text. Or perhaps it was a rune that no one had ever seen or heard of before. For a moment, the rune had glowed with a golden light as it became edged on Magnus’ skin before turning inky black. Magnus had shuddered one last time and had taken an audible breath before settling down on the bed once again. “Stay with me Magnus,” Alec had pleaded as he held the warlock’s hand to his lips and kissed it. 

For what felt like an eternity, he had remained in that position, the room going completely silent as everyone held their breaths and waited. A moment or a century later, Magnus had sighed deeply and when Alec looked up, his eyes met the open eyes of the warlock for the first time that night. 

“I felt you last night the way I felt you when I regained consciousness that morning in the hospital,” Magnus now said, as he reached once again to brush the hair away from Alec’s forehead. “Though last night it was intense in a completely different way.”

“I would hope so,” Alec responded with a smile that tried to be playful. “Do you think the effects of the transfusion would go away in time?”

“I don’t know,” Magnus answered. “Do you want them to go away?”

“What do you think?” Alec asked by way of an answer and then he leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on the rune. 

Magnus responded with a loud intake of breath, the sound reaching Alec’s very core and enticing his lips to renew their explorations. Soon, his mouth was journeying up Magnus’ neck, stopping for a while on that wonderful Adam’s apple, before continuing on towards that sweet spot near Magnus’s ear, the scent of Magnus inebriating. Alec yearned to possess that mouth that had occupied so many of his dreams, but he knew that the longer he delayed, the more exquisite the conquest would be. So, he delayed until he could no longer withstand the need and until he knew without the shadow of a doubt that Magnus was burning with the same desire. Still he spent a wonderful moment greedily gazing at those wanting lips before finally closing the short gap that separated his lips from his goal. As expected, the wait was worthwhile for the kiss was as sweet, tantalizing and passionate as he had hoped, a kiss capable of erasing all thoughts of pain and suffering.  

“What am I going to do with you and your naughty mouth?” Magnus whispered a long time later even though his mind was already conjuring up all kinds of possible answers. 

“For now, you will have to ponder that on your own,” Alec replied, kissing him once again, the kiss, this time, swift and short. “You are hungry. We need to get some food in you if we are going to survive the weekend.” He made to get up, but Magnus stopped him.

“Not so fast,” Magnus said, pulling him back and claiming that mouth once again. He entangled his fingers in Alec’s hair. The hard desire evident in Magnus’ body would have erased all thoughts of food and hunger from Alec’s mind if Magnus’ stomach had not loudly growled a moment later.  

“Oh, betrayed by own humanity,” Magnus said, a feigned tone of dismay in his voice. 

“Come on, Magnus,” Alec said with a chuckle. “There must be food in this place. The wait will be worthwhile, I promise.”

Alec got up and began to look around the room, searching for something. “Do you know where my clothes are? I should at least wear underwear, don’t you think?”

“I like what I see,” Magnus replied, his smile playful. “Oh okay,” he added in response to Alec’s look of dismay. He then snapped his fingers, once and then twice, a sparkle of magic sputtering once and then becoming stronger. With a gentle wave of his hand, Magnus conjured up a pair of shorts, the size and style exactly what Alec liked.

“You shouldn’t use your magic Magnus,” Alec replied, a look of concern drawing on his face. “You are not strong enough yet.”

“I am fine,” Magnus responded with a tone of dismissal. “For the last few days, my powers have been slowly returning. The more I use them, the easier it will get.”

“Are you sure? You shouldn’t overdo it, not for me.”

“I am fine Alexander,” Magnus repeated, as he came to stand in front of Alec, and rested a hand on the Shadowhunter’s chest, the sight of his magnificent naked body almost making Alec forget all his concerns. “You don’t have to worry,” he added as he kissed him gently. “Now, let’s eat.”

Magnus had asked their hosts to stock the kitchen in preparation for their visit and when Alec opened the refrigerator, he found it full of delicious things to eat. While he started the coffee and prepared plates with local cheeses, fresh baguettes, olives and fruit, Magnus put on track pants and set cushions on the living room floor. 

They ate picnic-style on the rug in front of the lighted fireplace and their meal was a perfect culmination to a night of wonder as well as a propitious preamble to an afternoon of searching for new and more intense pleasures. They ate with their fingers, fresh baguette dipped in fragrant olive oil, creamy and tasty cheeses, pieces of watermelon and coffee. They talked about the past, the present and the future, about what they had done during the months they had been apart, about what they hoped to do from then on, about dreams and wishes for what was to come. 

At one point, Magnus reached and placed a piece of watermelon in Alec’s mouth and followed it with a kiss, the sweetness of fruit and Alec filling his mouth and awakening, even more, his taste buds. A deep sigh of contentment escaped Alec’s lips. “You like that, don’t you?” Magnus whispered, the words coming out in a low chuckle. He sought those lips again, the kiss deeper and more demanding this time, the sweetness more intense.

He then reached for a piece of chocolate and without taking his eyes off Alec, put it in his mouth, the melting sweetness coating his tongue. He made to kiss Alec again but when his lips were almost upon Alec’s mouth, he changed direction and, instead, brought his tongue to one of Alec’s naked nipples, the sweetness of the chocolate and the hardness of the tip mixing in his mouth and confusing his senses. 

Alec inhaled loudly as he closed his eyes and tilted his face towards the ceiling, his thoughts suddenly full of Magnus’ mouth on him, all concerns that were not of that sweet chocolate and Magnus’ wicked tongue gone from his mind. As Magnus continued tormenting his nipples, he leaned back on the cushions and surrendered his whole body for the warlock to explore and do as he most desired. 

 Magnus did not disappoint and soon his mouth was searching for new places to explore and possess. He paused every so often to put another piece of chocolate in his mouth before continuing running tongue and lips along Alec’s skin, awakening every nerve ending, every skin cell, every goosebump. The remaining of their feast laid forgotten as Magnus feasted instead in the indescribable taste and scent of the Shadowhunter, and as Alec gave himself to Magnus. At one point, Magnus put a piece of chocolate in Alec’s mouth and then sealed it with a passionate kiss, his tongue and Alec’s tongue completely awakened by the sensation of melting sweetness. As their kiss intensified, and with expert hands, Magnus pulled down Alec’s shorts, revealing the Shadowhunter’s naked desire. Alec was lost at that moment, any resistance he might have wanted to put up defeated before he even attempted it. In moments, he was naked, vulnerable, exposed and completely at Magnus’ mercy, all willpower gone, all thought erased, all fears forgotten. 

If he had had an ounce of reason left in him, Alec perhaps would have pondered the possibility of someone walking outside and seeing them through the windows. But there was no need to worry, for they were completely alone, only the mountains, the birds and the trees witnesses to their lovemaking. 

“Mag-Magn,” Alec tried to say sometime later as Magnus’ mouth was pushing him towards a powerful climax, the name of his wicked lover catching in his throat and failing to pass between his clenched teeth. He wanted to ask for a truce so he could collect his wits, but at the same time dare not to, for fear that Magnus would stop doing what he was doing.

Instead of an answer, Magnus reached with his mind towards that connection that now existed between him and the Shadowhunter, that connection that allowed him to experience what Alec was sensing, that silent connection through which he too could make Alec feel what he was feeling. 

_ “Oh god, don’t do that,” _ Alec thought but was unable to say; for Magnus’ lustful thoughts filled his mind, causing him to lose the last feeble hold he had on his sanity. His back arched against the pillows and his whole body became one connecting muscle linking him to everything around him, to the air, to the sound of the birds, to Magnus and his magnificent mouth. He was climaxing then, lost and undone, a cascade falling from great heights and crushing on the rocks. Magnus whispered promises of love and endearment as he held Alec and the Shadowhunter called his name between shivers of ecstasy. 

“Oh Magnus,” Alec said with a chuckle once he recovered his capacity for speech. “That’s not fair.” He gathered Magnus in his arms and kissed him deeply, the kiss full of gratitude and wonder. 

“Haven’t you heard Alexander that all is fair in love and war?”

“I shall remember that,” Alec replied before reclaiming Magnus’ lips again, determine to thank that mouth with a thousand kisses.

Hours later, as the sun was beginning to set behind the mountains and the landscape was colored in an orange glow, Magnus was sitting crossed-legged on the rug, Alec straddling him, his leg wrapped around his waist. They had their arms wrapped around each other, not an inch of space between them as their bodies fused together and moved at the rhythm of a dance as ancient as time itself, a dance that only true lovers ever master. Their thoughts, their feelings and their bodies had become one. It was impossible to tell where one ended and the other begun, whose thoughts belonged to whom, which sensations were one’s own and which were the other’s. Alec’s hips were moving with ever-increasing tension, as he kissed Magnus deeply and hungrily, the kiss and the movements taking Magnus to ever higher states of bliss. Unable to resist, Magnus moved within Alec, his whole body awake and in tune to the quivers in Alec’s muscles, to the way in which his heart quicken and his breathing became more labored. 

Magnus knew that he was about to lose his battle to delay his climax; that Alec was stronger than him; that he was at Alec’s mercy; that there was no denying that he belonged to the Shadowhunter in a way he had never belonged to another soul. At the moment of his complete surrender, Alec turned his face up to the sky and his whole body tightened in a delicious spasm that made Magnus lose his hold. He too came undone with loud gasps against the crook of Alec’s neck. 

For a long while, they remained entangled in a tight embrace, as Alec gasped for air and Magnus kissed his neck and whispered secret promises of love in his ear. When he felt his strength leaving him, Magnus enticed Alec to lay down on the rug so he could lay beside him, his nose on the crook on Alec’s neck, the Shadowhunter’s arms wrapped around him. 

“Do you realize that we have been here a whole day and we haven’t even ventured outside?” Alec asked a while later as his gazed out the window to the mountains fading in the twilight. 

“Is that a complain Shadowhunter?” Magnus asked by way of an answer. 

“Not at all.” Alec’s smile was playful and accentuated, even more, his beautiful youth.  

They remained silent for a long while, each in their own thoughts, as their heartbeats slowly settled, and their breathing became more and more relaxed. When Magnus realized that Alec was about to doze off, he stood up and extended his hand toward Alec. “Come Alexander; it’s time for bed.” He then guided Alec to the bedroom and to bed. When they were finally laying down, he spooned against Alec’s body, the sensation of the Shadowhunter’s chest against his back making him feel sheltered and safe. 

“I love you Warlock,” Alec whispered in his ear, “more than I thought possible to love anyone.” 

Magnus’ only response was a deep sigh of contentment. He did not need to say anything, for during their afternoon of leisurely lovemaking, he had professed his love for the Shadowhunter over and over. 

* * *

 

“Good morning,” Magnus greeted Alec the next morning when he came out of the bathroom and found the Shadowhunter looking at himself in the full-length mirror as he smothered his t-shirt. 

“Good morning,” Alec replied as he naughtily smiled at Magnus though his reflection. “Did you sleep well?”

“Until you woke me up in the early hours, I did.”

“I did not hear you complain,” Alec stated, his smile growing wider. “In fact, I remember you being quite excited.”

The sun had not yet begun to peek above the mountain tops when Alec, still in his sleep, had instinctually begun to run his nose and then his lips along the back of Magnus’ neck, the kisses gentle and enticing. The sensation of those lips and of Alec’s quickening breathing on his skin had awaken the goosebumps on Magnus’ arms and legs, and following its own instincts, his body had begun to move against Alec, catching fire and burning before his mind knew what was happening. Before either of them had become completely conscious, they had been already in the grips of another building climax, Alec’s forehead resting on that delicious spot between Magnus’ shoulder blades, Magnus’ hand searching and holding Alec’s hand as they both climbed and climbed up to that imaginary mountain top from which they finally jumped,  their chests opened to the four winds and their bodies vibrating with uncontained energy. 

“Why would I complain?” Magnus now asked. “Some people can go a lifetime and never experience such a wonderful awakening.” He pressed himself against Alec’s back, wrapping his arms around his chest and kissing the back of Alec’s neck, the scent of soap, freshwater and Alec invading his nostrils. They stayed in that position for a moment, none of them feeling the need to say anything. 

Suddenly and without warning, Alec’s whole body stiffen and grew cold, as if Alec had abruptly become frightened. Curious, Magnus looked over his shoulder at Alec’s reflection in the mirror and what he saw there filled him with dread. Alec’s eyes were shining with golden and silver sparkles, and his expression was suddenly familiar and strange at the same time, as if this was his Alec but not his Alec, as if someone else was looking at him through Alec’s eyes. As a feeling of deja vu invaded all his senses, Magnus took a quick step back and prepared himself to defend or attack. 

Alec turned slowly, his eyes still fixed on Magnus, their golden and silver glow growing in intensity. “You have surprised me demon son.” Alec’s voice was eerily his own and not his own at the same time. 

“Zadkiel?” Magnus asked, dread and panic threatening to evict all rational thoughts from his mind. Magnus frantically tried to come up with a way to defend Alec against the angel that had possessed him, knowing full well that his powers were not a match for the divine strength of an angel.

“You and the Nephilim boy have passed every test I have put in front of you.”

“What do you mean? What test? What do you want with Alexander now?” Magnus had more questions but Zadkiel put a hand up to silence him.

“The bond between you and the Shadowhunter called Alexander Lightwood has proven to be stronger than ever thought possible, surprising considering who your father is.”

“Did you give Lorenzo the Dáinsleif dagger? Did you make him attack me?” Thousands of possibilities were running through Magnus’ mind as he contemplated the implications of what Zadkiel was saying.

“The first time we met, I told you demons son that you should not presume to know the will of the angels,” Zadkiel stated ignoring the questions, his voice even and his expression impassive. “The issues of this world do not concern us unless they also impact on us. When I showed myself to you, I did not do so to simply save the Nephilim child. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself for the boy, and his to sacrifice himself for you, intrigued me, and I had to test the strength of your bond. We had been watching you and the Nephilim boy since your first met, and I needed to know how strong your relationship was. The Eidolon attack on the Shadowhunter provided me with the perfect opportunity.” Zadkiel’s words were completely devoid of concern or emotion, as if he was talking about pawns in a game, or toys with which he could do as he pleased.

“Why would you test us in such a horrible manner?” Magnus asked. Suddenly his mind was full of more questions that answers. 

“A war is far approaching, a war of all wars, a war for the fate of all worlds: the divine, the demonic and the terrestrial. You and the Nephilim will fight in that war and will be crucial to its outcome. Your bond, as long as you remain true to it, will keep you on the right path and will hopefully lead you to victory.” Zadkiel’s words were suddenly full of conviction and perhaps a little sadness as if he had glimpsed a future in which much would be lost. 

“You did not need to test us to know that what Alexander and I have is true and real.” Magnus was suddenly angry at this being who had toyed so freely with their lives. 

“Perhaps that is so,” Zadkiel replied. “But now, not only I know how strong your bond is, but all of heaven knows it as well.”

“When will this war come?” Magnus asked. 

“That I cannot tell for sure, demon son,” Zadkiel replied, “the prophecy predicts that the beginning of the war will be marked by the crossing of a red star in the sky. What I know is that this new bond you now share will develop into new and yet unknown powers, powers that will extend your lives and strength beyond the demonic and the angelic and will challenge old conceptions of the separation between the Nephilim and the Downworld. As long as you remain true to that bond, you will prevail, and the reward will be an almost eternal life together.

“How do we prepare for war?” Magnus asked. 

“You are ready,” was Zadkiel’s short reply. “There is one more thing: not matter the outcome of the conflict, Alexander Lightwood will be the last being you will ever love. There will be no other; for neither of you can live if the other dies, and neither of you can die as long as the other lives.”

“What do you…?” Magnus started to ask, but Zadkiel stopped him with another gesture of his hand.

“Now I must leave you. We shall not meet again, but remember demon son, the will of the angels is mysterious and unfathomable.”

As abruptly as he had possessed Alec, Zadkiel left his body. Alec’s knees suddenly bent, and he brought a hand to his head as if he had been overtaken by a dizzy spell. If Magnus had not reacted quickly, taken the few steps that had separated him from Zadkiel and held Alec by the waist, the Shadowhunter would have collapsed. 

“Wow Alexander,” Magnus exclaimed. “Here sit down,” he added, leading Alec to the couch and sitting beside him. 

  
“What the hell Magnus, what was that?” Alec asked as he struggled against the dizziness. “Was that…”

“Zadkiel?” Magnus finished the question. “Yup, as charming as ever.” He resolutely snapped his fingers and a stream of blue and purple magic sparkled from the tips. He directed the stream towards Alec’s head and torso, feeling with his magic for any sign of pain or wounding. A thousand thoughts run through his mind, thoughts of panic, concern and dread. He feared the effects of the angelic possession on Alec. Jace had fared relatively well when Zadkiel first appeared, likely because he had angelic blood, but there was no telling how the possession would affect Alec. A hole had opened in the pit of his stomach the moment Zadkiel’s gaze had shone through Alec’s eyes, a hole that was now growing deeper as he tried to make sense of what had just happened and what Zadkiel had said. 

“How do you feel?” Magnus asked a moment later, his eyes betraying deep concern. 

“Like my head has been hit by a hammer,” Alec replied, as he held a hand to his temple. “I will be fine,” he added as soon as he looked up and saw the anxiety in his boyfriend’s expression. “What happened?”

“What did you hear?” Magnus continued to run his hand over Alec’s head, sending soothing streams of energy, hoping to dissolve the pain. 

“Just bits and pieces. It was as if I was at the other end of a broken phone line and could only get parts of the conversation. It was not like what Jace described to me.”

“Jace has angelic blood; it might have made the connection between him and Zadkiel smoother.”

“Thank you,” Alec said reaching for Magnus’ hand, trapping it in his own and interrupting the flow of magic energy Magnus was sending in his direction. “Don’t overuse your magic, you are still rebuilding your strength. I am feeling better, I promise,” he added, his tone reassuring. “Now, what is that I heard about a test and a new war coming?”

Magnus filled in the gaps in Alec’s memory as he recounted his exchange with Zadkiel: the bits and pieces of information and half-truths the angel had so enigmatically shared; the prophecy of a war of wars, its beginning marked by the sign of a red star; the roles they were predicted to play; the importance of their bond. He did not say much about Zadkiel’s parting words, however, because he was not sure he understood what the angel had meant, and he needed more time to consider the information. Alec did not bring that up either, perhaps because he too needed to time to ponder things over, or perhaps this was a part of the conversation Alec had not heard.

Once Alec felt stronger, Magnus stood up and with a swift wave of his hands, conjured a spell to make the bed with fresh linen. They then went into the living room and Magnus made breakfast.

“I am not afraid of the future,” Alec said a while later, his coffee mug in his hands, his gaze on Magnus steady, the statement a culmination to hours of speculations. “We can survive anything as long as we are together. Zadkiel said so, our bond is unbreakable.”

Magnus’ response was a broad and bright smile. He too felt that his connection to this fascinating creature was indestructible, that he could survive anything as long as Alec was beside him, that there was no obstacle that the two of them could not overcome. “We don’t know when this new war will come,” he stated, “doesn’t that concern you?”

“It does not matter,” Alec responded reaching across the table and taking Magnus’ hand. “As Zadkiel said, we are ready. When the time comes, we will figure out what to do. For now, we should not let this information spoil our happiness.”

After breakfast, Alec suggested that they go for a walk. “Are you getting cabin fever, Alexander?” Magnus asked. 

“No, but I think a bit of fresh air would do us both good and will help us take our minds off Zadkiel and his predictions. I don’t want him ruining the rest of our weekend.”

They set out at an easy pace along a path that started off the side of the house. Soon, the majestic view of the alps with white peaks that contrasted with the deep green and the bright colors of the wildflowers covering the ground erased all thoughts of upcoming wars and the predictions of angels. They walked in silence, hand in hand, stopping every so often to admire the breathtaking scenery or to comment on the beauty of the alps in spring. Once in awhile, Alec turned and, wrapping an arm around Magnus’ waist, kissed him, the scent of wildflowers and of Magnus mixing in his nostrils. He thought that if he ever had to describe the scent of Magnus, he would conjure up the memory of these mountains in spring.

They had been walking for a couple of kilometers when they arrived at the shore of a blue and crystalline lake, the white peaks of the mountains, the green of the ground and the cornucopia of colors from the flowers reflecting on its tranquil waters and reminding them of old landscape paintings. They stopped at a small incline and Alec took a deep breath, wanting to fill his lungs with the landscape, wanting the scenery and the feel of Magnus beside him to push away all remaining dark thoughts from his mind. 

He then turned to look at Magnus. The warlock’s smile and his lovely face turned up to the sky took his breath away. Magnus was more beautiful at that moment than ever before: his face kissed by the sun, his hair flowing in the wind, his lips gently parted made him look like a golden sculpture carved by the hands of a god. Alec looked at Magnus, momentarily mesmerized by his beauty, his heart full of love, and his mind still unable to believe his luck. 

After a second, Magnus turned and looked at Alec and, finding him looking back at him, smiled once again. Giving in to his desire, Alec reached and placed a hand on the side of Magnus’ face, and after running his thumb along the lines of his lips, kissed him, deeply and lovingly, conveying with the kiss what he had no words to explain. Afterward, he rested his forehead against Magnus’ forehead and reaching inside his pocket, took out the Lightwood ring. Magnus looked down at the jewel on Alec’s open hand and then back at the Nephilim, his face full of wonder.

Magnus made to reach for the ring, but Alec stopped him by closing his hand. To Magnus’ surprise, the Shadowhunter went down on one knee and looked up at Magnus, the breeze messing up his hair, and the sun reflecting in it in tones of blue, purple and black. 

“Magnus,” Alec started. “I wanted to do this a year ago, but I think after all we have gone through, now is the perfect moment. I love you more than I can say in words, and I want to spend whatever life I have left in me with you. If you allow me, I will love you, care for you and protect you with my very life from now on until my last breath. If you allow me, I will dedicate my life to making you happy. Magnus Bane, would you do me the immense honor of becoming my husband?” Alec’s eyes were shinning with unshed tears, and the question had almost caught in his emotion-filled throat. As he said the last words, he opened his hand and presented Magnus with the ring he hoped would seal his promise. 

“Alexander,” Magnus started to say, but then had to pause to calm his own unruly emotions. “You make me the happiest man in the whole of creation.” He reached and took Alec’s hand, the Lightwood ring nestled in both their hands. “Of course, there is nothing I want more than to tie my life to yours and to spend my own life making sure you never regret choosing me as your companion and husband.”

He pulled Alec back on his feet and without letting go of his hand, kissed him, the kiss full of his deepest feelings. As they kissed, he sent a stream of magic through the palm of his hand, through Alec’s own hand and into the Lightwood ring, a stream of magic that built on both their life forces, and that conjured up a perfect replica of the ring. The second ring was perfect in every way the Lightwood ring was. The only difference was that instead of the Lightwood sigil, Alec’s ring sported Magnus’ own mark: a letter B over a blue flame. 

“Perfect,” Alec said as he looked down at the symbols of their engagement and commitment. “Magnus Bane,” he then stated as he slid the ring down Magnus’ finger, “please accept this ring as a token of my commitment and promise to love you for the rest of my life and beyond.”

“Alexander Lightwood,” Magnus said when it was his turn. “This ring is a symbol of my devotion and my vow to love and honor you for the rest of my life and beyond.” 

They sealed their promise with a gentle and tender kiss, the mountains, the birds and the flowers silent witnesses to love so immense and a commitment so strong that nothing could ever come between them. At that moment, it did not matter to either of them what the future might have in store, what wars or conflicts they might have to confront. For their love and bond were unbreakable and ever-enduring. 

 


	13. All that I am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are my north and my south, my beginning and my end, my compass and my anchor. I give you all that I am.” 
> 
> This is my take on Alec and Magnus' wedding and honeymoon. I hope you enjoy reading it.

“So, are you all packed and ready for the move?” Jace asked in a low voice that still managed to sound casual. Without looking back and with cautious steps, he crept along the side of the cargo container, his back against its side, an unlit seraph blade in hand. The metal wall was still warm despite the summer sun having set hours ago.  

“Almost,” Magnus replied, a step behind him, his back also against the steel wall, his hands in a defensive position in front of him, ready to call on his magic as soon as needed. Like Jace, he kept scanning the scene, looking forward, backwards and up, hoping to avoid a surprise attack. 

Powerful lights normally illuminated the docks at night – an attempt by the port authority to deter burglars - but someone or something had disabled them days ago, and no one could figure out who or how to fix them. As a result, all Magnus and Jace could see under the moonless sky were the faint lines of the tall metal walls made up of cargo containers, stacked one on top of another, in piles of two or three, and arranged in such a way as to form an almost impenetrable maze. 

A few minutes ago, Jace had activated his night vision rune. Magnus had also cast a clear sight spell upon himself, even though he saw better than most people. Yet despite spell and rune, they were still having issues seeing beyond a few meters, the result, Magnus suspected, of some demonic power at work. 

“You are moving in a couple of days and you know Alec does not like leaving things to the last minute,” Jace said stopping at a crossroad and carefully peering around the corner. 

“Darling,” Magnus nonchalantly replied, “do you forget that I am magical? I can pack with the wave of a hand.” He swiftly shifted his gaze upward, alerted by what he thought was a shadow moving on the roof of a container at the other side of the passageway. “You and Clary will find the place empty and clean when you move in,” he added once he had confirmed that there was nothing there but eerie darkness. 

“I assume you are taking that monstrous telescope you installed on the roof,” Jace retorted as he carefully made his way around the corner, Magnus a step behind. “When did you develop a passion for astrology, Magnus?” 

“Astronomy, Jace, not the same thing,” Magnus teased him. “Of course, we are taking it. We already have a place for it in the new house. I am telling you; the apartment will be ready.” Neither of them dared speak of the prophecy that had prompted Magnus and Alec to start watching the night sky. Like the events of the night Magnus almost died, the angel’s prediction remained a secret that only their closest friends knew. 

“By the way,” Jace said, his tone momentarily serious, “thank you again for letting me and Clary have your apartment. The Institute is hardly a suitable place for newlyweds.” 

“Tell me about it,” Magnus commented. “Do you forget that I lived there for a few weeks? No privacy or silence in that place.” 

“As I recall, Alec and you were partly responsible for the noise.” Jace’s tone was mocking once again. 

If Magnus had a retort, he did not have a chance to use it, for at that moment his keened nose caught a whiff of what could only be described as a mixture of Sulphur, burnt hair, and rotting flesh. “We are getting close,” he said as he followed Jace around another bend in the makeshift maze.  

They stopped a few meters into the next corridor, the stench becoming stronger the nearer they got to their target. “We are close,” Jace confirmed, “whatever species of demon these are, they stink to high hell.” He hid his nose in the crook of his elbow to protect his nostrils from the offending odor and made to continue. But Magnus stopped him by grabbing him by the arm and pulling him down to a crouching position.  

“Wait,” he said. “Alexander and the rest of the team are still some ways off, searching at the other end of the docks. We will need everyone if we are going to catch them all. If my assessment is correct, we have more than one demon on our hands.” 

The summer in New York had been unusually warm, sunny and dry, the perfect weather for New Yorkers to enjoy the outdoors, sit in cafes and patios, and spend nights out on the town. As they strolled along the paths in Central Park and enjoyed evenings sitting out on the terrace, having cocktails and kissing under the stars, Magnus and Alec had commented that the city was regaling them with a perfect last summer before they moved. Indeed, thought Magnus as he crouched beside Jace and kept his eyes peeled for any sign of danger, this summer had been a perfect ending to his decades-long residency in the city. Perfect, had it not been for the unusually large number of mundanes who had gone missing and shown up dead and in pieces in the last few weeks.  

Not surprisingly, the mundanes were terrified. Soon after the first set of remains were found, the news had begun to report that a serial killer was at work in New York, and by the time the fifth and sixth victims went missing, reporters were already speculating that another Rifkin or Son of Sam were on the loose. The streets at night had become suddenly empty; people were afraid to venture out after sundown and preferred to stay in the safety of their homes. As a result, New York had become almost a ghost town after night fall. Yet, that did not deter whomever or whatever was terrorizing the city, and in the last few days, five more people have been taken, this time from their own homes. As with the previous ten victims, their partially eaten and burned remains had been discovered 48 hours after their disappearance in a park near the beach, and a few hours later, three other victims had gone missing.  

Shadowhunters generally kept out of mundane crime investigations, but this was not a routine mundane crime. A week after the first remains were found a NYPD cop, a member of Maya’s pack, had called the Institute to say that she suspected a demon was responsible for the deaths. She had seen the mark of teeth where some of the victims’ bones had been gnawed at, and her acute sense of smell had detected the stink of Sulphur and brimstone bellow the stench of rotten flesh, burned hair and blood. Alec had asked Magnus to assist and he had, not only confirmed the werewolf’s suspicions, but also determined that what they had on their hands was a nasty species of shapeshifting demons that usually hunted in packs. That had been over two weeks ago and since then, and despite the intensive hunt, more people had gone missing. Tonight, and by pure chance, they had finally tracked one of the demons to the docks.  

“How much longer?” Jace asked, his gaze fixed on a spot between two stacks of containers from where he thought the smell originated.  

Once again, Magnus reached with his mind through the dark distance in search of Alec, the connection to his fiancé getting stronger the nearer Alec got. “A minute or two,” he replied.       

“It is freaky that you can tell where Alec is without having to ask him,” Jace commented.  

Magnus’ only answer was a shrug, a ‘what can you do’ expression on his face, before going back to scanning the area, hoping that they would not be discovered before reinforcements arrived. All his senses were on alert and telling him that they were almost upon the demon nest and that what they would find once they got there would be more demons than they had anticipated. 

“I guess the years of sneaking around are over for both of you,” Jace teased, his voice casual despite the fact that every inch of his body exuded tension. As usual, Jace hid his anxiety and nervousness under a nonchalant and blasé façade. 

“I do not sneak around, and I suspect Alexander does not even know the meaning of the word.”  

“So, tell me, are you looking forward to moving to Alicante?” Jace asked. “I was surprised when Alec told me you decided not to live in Lightwood Manor.” 

“We want our own place, a place that is more our style. Besides, Robert is still the head of the Lightwood family; the manor is legally his, not that we would ever want to live there.” 

“But Alec is the new Inquisitor and you are being considered for the post of High Warlock of Alicante. Inquisitors usually live in their family manor and near the Guard, not in a country house at the edge of the forest. Are you even cut out for country life, Magnus?” Jace’s casual tone contrasted with the tautness in his posture and the way in which he continued to search for any danger.  

“The Lightwood-Bane house is almost finished, and it will be perfect,” Magnus replied, “with all amenities and with enough room to grow.” 

“Room to grow? Don’t tell me you guys are planning to form a commune or something.” 

“You know Alec wants a family, don’t you?” the warlock asked.  

“Yeah, I know. But do you want a family Magnus?” 

“Of course, I do. I think Alexander and I will be great parents one day,” Magnus replied.  

Jace was about to say something, likely some smart or sarcastic retort, but a shuffling sound, like something heavy being dragged along the ground a few meters ahead, interrupted him. The sound was followed a moment later by growls coming from somewhere in the shadows, somewhere closer than they expected. The stench of Sulphur and burned flesh suddenly got almost unbearable and the proximity to demon energy made the hair in the back of Magnus’ neck stand on end.  

Without another word, Jace whispered a name and the seraph blade in his hand glowed silver, and snapping his fingers, Magnus called on the magic powers inside him to come to life. Alec was close, but not close enough yet, Magnus knew. He hoped that Izzy and Simon were closer because all indicated that they were out of time.  

“Here we go, Magnus” Jace whispered from where he was crouching beside Magnus and when Magnus looked at the Shadowhunter, he saw excitement in those bright angelic eyes. Without waiting for an answer, Jace stood and took a step in the direction of the noises.  

“Oh boy,” Magnus whispered more to himself than to Jace as he kicked himself for having agreed to team up with this daredevil of a Shadowhunter.  

“I bet this is not how you hoped to spend the night before your wedding,” Jace humorously stated, as with stealthy but fast steps, he set out in the direction of the demons.  

As soon as Jace stepped out of their hiding place, three nasty looking monsters with grey rubbery skin, black eyes with bright red pupils, big sharp teeth and what Magnus suspected were expandable jaws dripping blood, looked up from where they had been squatting consuming their latest meal. A fourth monster dropped the body he had been dragging and turned to face Jace and Magnus.  

With agility that could only be described as supernatural, Jace took off at a run, Magnus closed behind. A few meters before reaching the place where the demons stood, claws out and sharp teeth at the ready, the Shadowhunter jumped at least five meters in the air and using the metal wall as leverage, propelled himself downward, seraph blade at the ready. The movement momentarily startled the demons and, taking advantage, Magnus threw a red ball of magic straight towards the chest of one of them. The monster staggered a couple of steps backward and stopped right on the path of Jace’s blade. With blinding speed and agility, Jace plunged the weapon down the demon’s chest, disposing of it.      

What happened next happened almost as a blur, as if a film that had, until then, been running normally had suddenly sped up. As if from nowhereand likely alerted by the sound of their buddy dying, six or perhaps eight other demons came out of the shadows and joined the melee. Jace pulled out the blade from the first monster and turning cut the head clean off a second one. Meanwhile, Magnus threw ball after ball of magic in quick succession hitting the demon that had been dragging the unconscious human square on the chest and making it explode. 

Suddenly, Magnus saw Izzy’s whip flying through the air, its tip making a cracking sound before wrapping itself around the neck of a fourth demon. Simon, the newest member of the team, and Izzy’s partner in more ways than one, pierced the same demon in the chest with his sword, cutting it almost in two.   

Tall and with the fluid movements of a panther, Alec suddenly appeared on the top of a stack of containers, his vow in hand, his quiver strapped to his back, an arrow already nocked. Seeing his magnificent figure, Magnus thought that everything was well with the world again. They locked eyes for a split second, and they each saw a mixture of relief and glee in the other’s expression. For they knew that this is how they should always go into battle, together and as a perfect pair, each counting on the other for support and backing. 

With almost blinding movements, Alec began to release arrow after arrow as he run along the metal roof and jumped with incredible agility from one stack to the next, keeping both his team and the monsters in sight, not wasting an arrow or a second, and not losing his balance or sure footing. Every arrow Alec released hit its target exactly a tenth of a second after Magnus hit the same target with a discharge of magic, the combination of magic and arrow weakening and immediately destroying anything they aimed at. More than once, a demon tried to sneak up on Magnus, but every time he dropped to his knees or took a step aside precisely at the moment that one of Alec’s arrows was closed enough to hit the attacker before it had the chance to avoid death. It was as if Magnus had eyes in the back of his head or could forestall the enemy’s movements, and in many ways, he was seeing with more than his own eyes; he was seeing with Alec’s eyes as well.  

Anyone who saw Alec and Magnus in battle would have had a hard time not believing that they were reading each other’s minds. For they moved sinuously, harmoniously and seamlessly with each other, as one fluid organism, as a couple doing a dance that they had practiced countless times until they had memorized each step and movement. With Jace, Alec was always the protector; the one to have his back; the one walking a step behind his impetuous parabatai, protecting and covering. In Magnus, however, Alec had an equal partner, someone who completed and complemented his movements. Neither of them covered the other; rather, each protected and attacked in equal measure. Alec bent, turned and folded with complete ease around Magnus’ magic, and Magnus moved with equal fluidity with Alec’s bow, arrow and weapons. As it was when they made love, when they cooked, or when they walked down the street, they moved with each other as if they could each anticipate the other’s movements before they made them.  

All his life, except perhaps during his periodic adventures with Catarina and Rhagnor, Magnus had been a loner. Yet, since he met these group of young Shadowhunters and fell in love with one of them, he had experienced what it was like to be part of a team, to go into danger knowing that someone would have his back, knowing that he was not alone, that someone would stand by his side until the end. Yet, that feeling was never as strong as when he was fighting by Alec’s side, moving as one with his lover.  

At some point during the fight, Magnus looked up to where Alec was perched, and his sharp eyes detected a faint shadow behind the Shadowhunter, a shadow approaching with stealthy steps, taking advantage of the fact that Alec was too busy to protect his rear. A split second later, the shadow became solid as it reached and attempted to wrap its arm around Alec’s neck. With blinding speed and without the need for words, Magnus sent a mental image to Alec at the same time that he aimed a powerful stream of red magic in his direction. Alec dropped on one knee, and swiftly taking a blade from his belt, turned and cut the demon at the knees at the precise moment that the magic hit it squarely on the chest. The demon had just enough time to look surprised before it exploded in millions of sparkles that burned and floated in the air for a second before coming down in countless specks of ash. 

“Mission accomplished,” Jace announced a moment later, as with his seraph blade he relieved the last of the demons of its head. 

“Well done,” Alec said as he leaped from his perch, a broad smile on his face, a smile that Magnus could see even in the darkest of nights. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he walked towards Magnus. “Are you okay?” he asked as he wrapped an arm around the warlock’s waist and leaned his own forehead against Magnus’ forehead. 

“I am peachy,” was Magnus’ easy answer. “You?” 

“Good; missing you though,” Alec whispered. “Remind me again why we agreed to spend the week before our wedding in separate houses.”

“It is tradition,” Magnus replied bringing a hand to Alec’s cheek at the same time that he too wondered what he had been thinking when he had proposed the separation.  

“Well, not bad for a bachelor party,” Simon stated from where he stood with his arm wrapped around Izzy, “though if I remember correctly, stripers are the most common form of entertainment but I guess demons work too.”

“Stripers ah?” Izzy asked in a teasing tone as with one finger she pocked Simon in the ribs.  

“That takes care of the demon threat,” Alec stated, turning towards his team, yet not letting go of Magnus’ hand.  

“This one is still alive,” Jace announced from where he was crouching beside the mundane the demons had been dragging. Upon hearing this, Magnus let go of Alec and with swift steps went to check on the survivor.  

“Okay then,” Alec instructed, “we need to clean this mess up before the mundane police arrives. Magnus, can you and Simon take the survivor to the hospital? The rest of us will get rid of the demon remains. Izzy, as your first act as Head of the Institute, you should write the report to the Clave. I can help if you need assistance.” 

“Sure,” Izzy replied, swiftly kissing Simon on the cheek before the vampire left her side. 

“I will see you tomorrow at the wedding then,” Alec said when Magnus and Simon were about to depart. He placed a hand atop Magnus’ heart and planted a swift kiss on his lips. 

“I will see you tomorrow,” Magnus responded. “I will be the one in the monkey suit.” 

“Just one more night,” Alec said, his smile bright and wide. “I cannot wait to be married to you.” He kissed Magnus again, the kiss a promise of passionate nights to come.  

“Okay, okay you two, wait for the honeymoon,” Jace interrupted, stepping between Alec and Magnus and gently pushing them apart. “I would like to go home to my wife at a decent hour and we all have a big day tomorrow. So, let’s get a move on.” 

 

 

* * *

 “Do you think I am doing the right thing?” Alec nervously asked the next afternoon as Jace helped him with the knot of his pink and lavendersilk tie. Alec kept pulling down and smoothing his dove grey waistcoat and gazing at his parabatai with anxious eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you are getting cold feet Alec,” Jace responded, a sudden look of alarm on his face. 

“No, of course not,” Alec quickly stated, turning towards the full-length mirror to check the tie and tuck it under the waistcoat. “It is not that. It is just that Magnus wanted a quiet wedding, somewhere remote and holiday-like with just friends and family. I insisted on making a big statement and having a big wedding, and now I remember that I don’t like being the center of attention.” 

“But Magnus loves the attention,” Jace commented. “I am sure he will be happy to take the spotlight. But if what you want is a small wedding, I guess we could call the guests and…” 

“No, no,” Alec interrupted as he checked once again the cuffs in his crisp white shirt. “I want the big wedding. I am going to do this only once in my life and Magnus has never been married before. He deserves a big celebration.I am just nervous. Besides, I want everyone to know what Magnus means to me, especially now that I am about to become Inquisitor.” 

“Everyone who is anyone in Nephilim and Downworld society will be there, so I would say that if they do not know what you guys mean to each other, they are about to find out.” Jace reached for Alec’s black mourning jacket hanging from a hook by the mirror and helped his brother into it. Alec turned then and Jace smoothed the front of the jacket, brushing imaginary specks from the shoulders. 

“No hard feelings then?” Alec asked, his eyes searching for Jace’s. 

“Why would there be any?” Jace asked by way of an answer. 

“I don’t know. I guess because I will no longer live in New York, or at the Institute.” 

“Alexander Lightwood,” Jace replied, and his eyes on his parabatai were full of love and pride. “I am proud of you, not because you are now the Inquisitor, but because after all that you have gone through, you are finally living your life in the open. No matter where we are, you know that our bond will remain strong and that you can count on me in the same way that I know I can count on you. No amount of distance will weaken us.”    

“Thank you for your unconditional support Jace,” Alec said, and his eyes shone with emotion.  

“You are welcomed, buddy,” Jace replied as he patted Alec on the arm. “Now let’s go get you married. The portal to Idris should open in a few minutes and mom just called saying that she and Magnus are also on their way.” 

A few minutes later, Jace and Alec joined Izzy, Clary, and Simon on the roof of the institute. Izzy’s lavender evening dress hugged her figure perfectly, its color a perfect match to Simon’s tie. Clary looked equally stunning in a midnight blue gown; its skirts full enough to hide the small bump growing in her belly from preying ayes. Jace beamed as soon as he saw his wife, his expression not only of love, but also of pride. Seeing his parabatai so happy and fulfilled eased up some of Alec’s apprehension for moving away.  

“Ready brother?” Izzy asked after planting a tender kiss on Alec’s cheek and telling him that he looked like the perfect groom. 

“Yes,” Alec replied. 

As he had told Jace, Alec had insisted on a big wedding, deserving, not only of his rank as Inquisitor and of Magnus’ rank as High Warlock, but also and most importantly of two people who loved each other, and who were willing to challenge the intolerance of a society still struggling to enter the twenty-first century. Wanting to make sure that the whole of Nephilim and Downworld society knew who the new Inquisitor and his husband were, they planned for their wedding to take place in Idris and in front of hundreds of guests. This, along with the unconditional acceptance of his relationship to a Downworlder, had been among the conditions that Alec had put for accepting his new post.  

Instead of marrying in the Halls of the Accords, however, Magnus had asked that the ceremony and reception take place in the forest surrounding Alicante, not far from where their new home was being constructed. After visiting the site, Alec had been in complete agreement. So, they choose a spot between a narrow river and an escarpment, a place with tall trees, its green tops forming a natural shelter and giving the impression of being under the ceiling of a green cathedral. Using a combination of magic and Nephilim powers, Magnus, Catarina, Alec and Izzy had hanged thousands of small witch lights from the tree branches, and the warlocks had enchanted thousands of fireflies to fly and hover all around the perimeter. The result was an enchanting scenery of deep greens, and silver and yellow lights surrounding rows of silver chairs decorated with golden flowers and green vines. The night was perfectly clear, the stars distant witnesses to the joyous event. 

Guests were already seated when Alec and his party arrived, and Jem already stood at the altar, in an area marked by a silver arch adorned with green vines and white tulle.  

“Ready son?” Robert asked when he met Alec at the back of the room.  

“Thank you for being here dad,” Alec said.  

“I would not miss this for the world, Alec,” Robert responded. “I am so incredibly proud of you that I feel I am going to jump out of my skin.” Alec hugged his father then, the gesture grateful. For he knew how hard it had been for Robert Lightwood to come to terms with his son’s life choices. “Let’s do this,” Robert said once they parted as he brushed a tear from his eye.  

Robert escorted his son down the aisle, the rows of seats filled with friends, family, colleagues and guests coming from all corners of Nephilim and Downworld society. As they made their way, guests stood up and greeted the groom with looks of pride and happiness. If anyone was uneasy, they either did not dare show it, or Alec simply did not see them. For he kept his eyes in the front of the room where Jace was already waiting to act as his suggenes. When they reached the altar, Robert shook his hand and then hugged him before going to take his seat beside the rest of his children. A moment later, Catarina joined them and with a gesture informed Alec that his future husband had arrived. 

At that moment, somewhere in the back of the gathering, Maryse was stopping Magnus under a tall tree, its wide trunk blocking them from view of the guests and of Alec. She smoothed the front of Magnus’s jacket and said: “Magnus, Alec and Izzy are perhaps the only good things I have done in my life. That is why they are my most cherished treasures. I know you are eternal, and that you have loved others before and will likely love others after, but you must promise me that you will look after my son and that you will love and honor him as long as he lives. Promise me, Magnus.” Her voice carried not only deep emotion but also a sudden sense of urgency and concern. 

“Maryse,” Magnus said, placing a hand on his future mother-in-law’s shoulder, “I give you my most solemn oath that I will never love another the way I love Alexander, and that I will do all in my power to make him happy and never regret having tied his life to mine.”  

Maryse gazed deep into Magnus’ eyes for a moment and seeing not a thread of doubt or deceit in them, smiled before kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said as she took the warlock’s arm and, together, they walked towards the place where the ceremony would take place.  

As he approached, Magnus experienced a moment of apprehension at seeing so many Clave members present. Alec had wanted a big wedding. Even though he would have been happy to marry Alec in a small affair, secretly, Magnus too had wanted a big ceremony, a chance to declare his love and commitment for all to hear. Yet, as he now approached the big crowd, part of him wished it was only him and Alec in front of Jem. For who cared what others thought as long and the two of them knew what they meant to each other.  

However, all fears and concerns flew from Magnus’ mind as soon as he saw the magnificently tall figure of Alec waiting for him at the altar, his smile widening in surprise as soon as he saw Magnus. At that moment, everyone and everything else disappeared and just Alec existed for Magnus, just Alec, looking radiant and elegant in his own Royal ascot jacket, and that dove grey vest that highlighted his skin tone and hair so well. As he slowly walked down the aisle, arm in arm with Maryse, his gaze never left Alec, and in Alec’s eyes, he saw more love than he ever thought to deserve or be honored with.  

The breath caught in Alec’s eyes the moment he saw Magnus; for the warlock looked stunning. He was dressed in dark grey checkered pants and a butter yellow double-breasted waistcoat over a crisp white tuxedo shirt. A black Royal ascot morning jacket – a piece of clothing which name Alec would have never thought he would have to learn – and a cravat, the same color and design as Alec’s tie, completed Magnus’ outfit. Anyone who knew Magnus and his flair for fashion would have said that his attire was rather subdued. In many ways it was, but the warlock made up for it with make-up that accentuated his most striking features and strands of blue, purple and red that run through his hair. 

As the distance between Alec and Magnus got smaller and smaller, thousands of memories bounced between them: memories of the first time Magnus’ eyes found Alec in the crowd; the curiosity and self-consciousness in Alec’s returned gaze; the utter surprise in Magnus’ face the first time Alec kissed him; the comforting feeling of walking hand in hand along the streets of New York at night; the indescribable sensation of waking up beside one another; the blissful routine of a shared life.  

By the time Magnus reached Alec, both their hearts were full to bursting, and their eyes reflected emotions that words could never express. At the altar, Maryse kissed Magnus’ cheek and, reaching, took Alec’s hand and placed it in the warlock’s hand, the gesture meant to remind Magnus that she was placing something precious in his care. Alec smiled at his mother and then faced Magnus. “You look handsome, my love,” he whispered. 

“And you look dashing Alexander,” Magnus replied, his voice equally low. 

The guests settled in their seats and clearing his throat, Jem began to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen, we gather on this glorious and beautiful night to witness the union of two souls who have chosen to tie their destinies together and from now on share one common path. Alec and Magnus have overcome many obstacles to make it to this moment and their determination and commitment is a true reflection of their love. May this union be an example of what we can accomplish when we put aside our differences.”  

“Alec and Magnus have decided to express their love and commitment in their own vows,” Jem concluded. He then gestured for Alec and Magnus to proceed. 

Without letting go of Alec’s hand, Magnus turned to Catarina and took the ring that she handed him. He then looked at Alec and smiled, the smile bright and full of emotion. “Alexander Lightwood, like my hand now shelters your hand I promise to shelter you in darkness and in light, in cold and in hot, in good and in bad times. I vow to be a warrior at your side in times of war and the holder of the olive branch in times of peace. I promise to walk by your side and to be your equal partner. For you are my north and my south, my beginning and my end, my compass and my anchor. I give you all that I am.” With the last few words, and with shaking hands, Magnus slid the ring down Alec’s finger, and when he looked up once again, Alec saw unshed tears in those beautiful cat eyes.  

Alec smiled and sighed deeply to settle his heart and bring his own unruly emotions under control. He then turned and took the ring that Jace had ready for him. “Magnus Bane, in you and with you, I discovered myself. You showed me what life in the light was like and for that I will forever be in your debt. I promise to stand by your side no matter what the future holds, to call your home my home, to guard your sleeping nights and waking hours, to put my very life on the line for you. I vow to protect you and honor you from now and until my last breath. For you are my north and my south, my beginning and my end, my compass and my anchor. I give you all that I am.” 

With the last words, and as Magnus had done before, Alec placed the Lightwood ring in Magnus’s finger and then rested his free hand atop the warlock’s hand, the union of their hands forming an unbreakable knot, a symbol of their unbreakable bond and of their unsurmountable love.  

Jem reached then and placing his own hand atop Alec and Magnus’ hands said: “With the power vested in me, I unite you in holy matrimony. May this bond be unbreakable and eternal. You may now seal your union with a kiss.” 

Magnus reached and placed a hand against Alec’s cheek and Alec placed one of his on Magnus’ heart, on that spot where an indelible rune was now permanently edged. They then looked into each other’s eyes for a second before closing the distance and sealing their commitment with a tender and loving kiss.  

Their guests irrupted in applause all around them and some even cheered, but Alec and Magnus were completely oblivious to the world around them at that moment. For only they existed in the world; for nothing and no one could ever come between them.  

“Finally, we are married,” Alec whispered once their lips came apart and he rested his forehead against his husband’s, his smile as bright as the sun. Magnus’ only answer was a faint nod of agreement and a wide smile of his own. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family,” Jem stated as the room settled, a broad smile on his ageless face, “it is my great honor and privilege to introduce Alexander Lightwood-Bane and Magnus Lightwood-Bane. Please join me in wishing them a long, happy and prosperous life together.” 

Magnus and Alec turned and faced their guests, and the look of joy on their faces as they made their way down the aisle was contagious. From several places in the audience as well as from the sides of the gathering, many hands rose up and from their fingertips, short bursts of multicolor magic shot to the sky, magic that broke in thousands and thousands of tiny sparkles that illuminated the tree tops before falling down on the newlyweds. With nods of gratitude, Magnus acknowledged the warlocks that in their own special way were honoring him and wishing him and his husband happiness and joy.

 

* * *

 “When do you think it will be a polite enough hour for us to leave?” Alec asked some hours later as Magnus led him on yet another dance, the warlock’s feet light and his movements supple. Alec held on to Magnus and let the warlock twirl them both around the dance floor, their movements more grateful than Alec had ever imagined himself capable of.  

“It is our wedding,” Magnus replied. “We can leave whenever we please. I just thought that you were enjoying the party.” Magnus furtively gazed down at the watch wrapped around the wrist that Alec rested on his shoulder, the hands indicating that it was past eleven. 

“I am, but I am also anxious to start our honeymoon,” Alec whispered in Magnus’ ear, the words and the Shadowhunter’s breath on his skin awaking goosebumps all over Magnus’ skin.  

“Is that so?” 

“We have been sleeping separately for over a week, Magnus. I don’t know you, but I cannot sleep if you are not there.” Alec’s voice was low and seductive in that way that always made Magnus lose his train of thought.  

“Does that mean that you are tired and in need of a good night sleep Shadowhunter?” Magnus asked, a seductive smile on his face, a smile capable of pushing all thoughts of sleep and tiredness out of Alec’s mind. He tightened his hold on Alec’s waist and pulled him closer, the sensation of their bodies so close together causing a low gasp to scape Alec’s lips. 

“Not a chance, warlock,” Alec replied, as completely unconcerned about who might be watching, he planted a gentle kiss on that sweet spot right below Magnus’ ear. “I can’t wait for you to make love to me, slowly, sweetly, and passionately, in that way you only know how.”  

The words had such an effect on Magnus that had he not hastily tightened the reins on his magic, it would have opened a portal of its own accord and taken them to the first remote and intimate place that came to his mind. “Time to say goodbye then,” he declared as he took a step back and not letting go of Alec’s hand, turned and led them out of the dance floor.  

The wedding reception had been a complete success and people still seemed to be enjoying themselves. After the ceremony, and with the help of magic and steles, chairs had been arranged around round tables surrounding a dancing area. Cocktails and Champaign had been served for the customary toasts before dinner, and alcohol had continued flowing throughout the evening. After dinner, people had begun to take to the dance floor. As soon as it was polite to leave, the older members of the Clave had begun to depart, leaving behind a cheerful group of Shadowhunters and Downworlders that, away from of the vigilant and judgmental eyes of the older and more conservative guests, had decided to continue the celebration.  

Jace and Clary had danced all night long, their bodies moving together with a grace that was innate to their angelic nature. Izzy and Simon had been almost as graceful, except that Simon sometimes still had difficulty with his vampirical speed. At some point during the night, Alec had looked to one side of the dance floor and had smiled when he saw his mother dancing in a tight embrace with Luke, his lips whispering who knows what in her ear.  

Alec and Magnus had spent most of the evening going from table to table greeting and chatting with their guests. Neither of them had eaten much and after a couple of hours, Alec had begun to politely refuse the drinks offered to him. He did not have Magnus’ tolerance and, besides, he wanted to be as lucid as possible for his wedding night. As they now began to say their goodbyes, Alec thought that even though he had never been much for parties, he had enjoyed himself immensely.  

“I am so happy for you Alec,” Jace said as Alec and Magnus were about to step through the portal Magnus had opened to take them to their honeymoon. He gathered Alec in a tight embrace before turning to Magnus and saying: “Magnus, look after my parabaitai.”  

“Take care of each other,” Maryse said as she wrapped her arms around Alec and Magnus at the same time. “I am so happy you have found each other.” 

As their guests cheered and called out good wishes, Magnus and Alec stepped through the portal hand in hand, Magnus a step ahead, guiding the way for his husband.  

While Alec had been the one to do most of the planning for their wedding, Magnus had asked to be in charge of the honeymoon. When Alec had queried about the plans, Magnus had simply said that it was a surprise, a surprise he was sure Alec would like. “Where are we going Magnus?” He had asked again before leaving the wedding reception. 

“To a beautiful place, I promise,” Magnus had replied. “We should be there just before dawn.” 

Now, as he followed Magnus through the portal, Alec wondered once again what his husband had in store for them. But as he stepped out and onto a spacious and airy room, Alec knew he had had no reason to worry. As he took in the space, a broad smile lifted the corners of his mouth. They were in a beautifully appointed open-concept cottage, surrounded by windows looking out towards the greenest of rainforests. The faint light filtering through the white curtains was a deep tone of emerald suggesting that, while the sky had already begun to change color, the sun was yet to come out. Alec turned back towards the place from where they had just come, and as the last sparkles of energy from the portal died down, he saw big open French doors leading to a small terrace and beyond it a beach of pearly white sand and a still dark blue sea in the distance.  

The cottage was smallish, considering how much Magnus liked big places. However, it was well equipped with all they would need for a ten-day honeymoon. They were standing on a seating area with a big white and comfortable sectional couch surrounding a dark wooden coffee table. To one side of the room, Alec could see a modern kitchen with a long counter surrounded by bar chairs. On the other side, another set of French doors opened to a bedroom with an enormous four-posted bed covered in white linen and ornamented with a white gauze canopy. Except for strategically placed dark wooden antiques and the exposed wooden beans on the ceiling, the rest of the décor was in light colors and cleaned lines. Beautiful flowering orchids added splashes of colors to surfaces and window frames. 

“Where are we, Magnus?” Alec asked turning to look at the man he could now call husband. 

“Our home,” Magnus replied, turning to Alec and placing a hand on his chest. “Or rather one of our homes; we owe a few.” 

“But where?” 

“We are on a private island some kilometers off the coast of Komodo in Indonesia,” Magnus explained. “Near the land of my birth.” 

Magnus had bought the island almost a hundred years before, during a time in his life when he had felt particularly nostalgic for the land of his childhood. Even though he did not visit very often, over the decades, he had first built and then re-built a home here, a home meant to be both a refuge and a link to his past. When he had first met Alec, he had imagined bringing him to his island and showing him his place of origin. Not knowing why, he had had the cottage remodeled, in the hope perhaps of one day fulfilling his wish. Now Alec was here, still in his formal attire, looking as handsome as ever as he gazed at him with those big eyes full of love and joy. 

“Do you like it?” he asked.  

“It is perfect,” Alec replied as he wrapped an arm around Magnus’ waist and pulled him closer. With his other hand, he reached and liberated Magnus’ hair from the string that had kept it in a tasteful ponytail all evening, and running fingers through it, he watched as it fell like an ebony cascade down Magnus’ shoulders. “Hi husband,” he whispered. 

“Hello husband,” Magnus replied before taking possessions of those lips with which Alec had tempted him all night.  

The kiss began tender and gentle, but quickly the nights of sleeping in separate beds, of yearning for the other’s touch, lighted a fire inside Alec and Magnus, and the kiss began to burn with unspent desire. Alec brought a hand to the side of Magnus’ face as he thoroughly explored the warlock’s mouth, his tongue teasing and demanding. Magnus felt himself melting against the body of the Shadowhunter, its sheltering strength welcoming him in its embrace.  

“I missed you, Alexander,” Magnus whispered when Alec finally left his mouth and began to explore his neck. “I did not sleep much either in the last week.” 

“I missed you too, Magnus. But I suspect our wedding night would be so much sweeter because of the days we have been apart.” Alec spoke in Magnus’ ear and the words fueled, even more, the fire inside Magnus.  

 _Yes,_ Magnus thought but could not say because Alec had reclaimed his mouth, _if this is the reward for the days of separation, the wait was worthwhile._  

It was Magnus the one to first begin to pull down Alec's jacket, him the one to loosen the tie, he the one to slowly undo the buttons in Alec’s vest and then shirt. Alec was contented to let Magnus do, as he took complete possession of the warlock’s lips, as he teased and owned with his mouth the mouth of the man with whose destiny, he had just tied his own.  

“I cannot believe you are mine, Magnus,” he whispered, “and I cannot believe I am yours.” 

“That you are,” Magnus whispered back, his smile broad and sensual. “All mine to have and to love.” Magnus followed the words with a gentle bite in Alec’s earlobe, the gesture possessive.  

They continued kissing for a long time, slowly and without haste, each rejoicing in the taste and feel of the other, each keeping a tight hold on a passion that threatened to run away from them. Magnus peeled Alec’s vest off and let it fall to the ground. His tie followed suit a moment later, and then the warlock’s hands were searching and finding the hem of Alec’s shirt before journeying underneath in search of his gloriously soft and warm skin.  

“Should we go to the bedroom?” Alec asked between shallow breaths.  

“There is no rush,” Magnus replied as he pulled Alec’s shirt halfway down his back, trapping his arms in the sleeves. “We have all the time in the world. Let me taste you slowly and without haste, Alexander.”  

Magnus’ shaking hands were then in Alec’s belt buckle and soon after, those same hands were pulling down his zipper, slowly exposing desire. Alec did not dare resist or assist Magnus, for at that moment he knew he was in the expert hands of his husband; for Magnus’ desire was also his own. A moment later and as he continued relieving Alec of his pants and as Alec’s kicked off his shoes, Magnus guided him towards the sofa and made him sit. All Alec could do was obey, for his arms were still caught in the sleeves of his shirt and because there was no resistance possible or necessary.  

It was now Magnus the one to own Alec’s mouth, his tongue the one to tease and possess, his teeth the ones to bite, and his lips the ones to explore. Slowly so as to enjoy every millimeter of Alec’s skin, Magnus planted a path of kisses down Alec’s neck as he made his way towards that exquisite spot at the base of his neck. After inhaling the masculine scent that was particularly strong there, he continued down toward Alec’s chest, teasing him with his teeth and lips, tracing with his tongue the exquisite roundness of his nipples. Meanwhile, his hands were in their own mission of exploration, exposing skin, caressing and owning, giving and demanding in preparation for his mouth to make its way to those intimate corners where he knew Alec felt the most pleasure.  

Completely oblivious to everything except for Magnus’ expert hands and exquisite mouth, Alec leaned back on the sofa, his hands fisting on the upholstery, his whole body concentrating on extending the pleasure to infinity. If he had been capable of reason, Alec would have thought that this moment was one of the most arousing he had ever experienced; that he was completely naked and exposed, completely vulnerable and at the disposal of a fully dressed Magnus. However, Alec had lost all capacity for thought a long time ago and at that moment he was all instinct, feeling and sensation.  

Alec tried to rein in his composure, to stop the raging storm inside him, but his efforts were feeble and futile in the face of Magnus’ wild passion. In no time, Magnus was taking him to ever-higher states of pleasure, urging him on and on until Alec knew he was completely lost, that there was no resisting Magnus’ magnificent mouth and hands. At the moment of his spectacular climax, Alec called Magnus’ name over and over again, as he thanked the heavens for the priceless gift of this man that tonight had become his kin.   

“My god, Magnus, I swear you will be the death of me one of these days,” Alec said between shallow breaths. Magnus’ response was a low chuckle as he looked at Alec with the self-satisfied expression of the cat who ate the goldfish.  

Finally taking off his jacket, Magnus used it to partially cover Alec as he sat beside him. Alec gathered him in his arms and after kissing him on the forehead, leaned his head against Magnus’ head. They stayed in that position for a while, each in their own thoughts, as they watched the light change outside as the sun came out and turned the sand an even brighter tone of white and the sea a breathtaking turquoise. 

“Are you happy?” Alec asked a while later.  

“I am,” was Magnus’ decisive reply.  

After another few minutes of silence, Alec sighed deeply and asked: “Are there any other people on this island?” 

“No, we are the only two people in residence. I told you, we own the whole place.” 

“You mean you own it,” Alec responded. 

“No, Alexander, we do,” Magnus corrected. “We are married now; everything that is mine is now also yours. That is unless you want to prenup, though we could have talked about that before we got hitched” 

“I don’t want a prenup,” Alec replied. “It is just that I didn’t bring much into this marriage. I have never been concerned with property or wealth. Don’t you think that makes this sharing arrangement rather uneven?” 

“Does that matter to you?” 

“No, I guess not.” 

“Well, it does not matter to me who brings what into this union either Alexander.” 

“In that case, everything that I have or may have in the future no matter how big or small, is also yours, Magnus.” Alec’s words were completely sincere, and his smile was almost blinding.  

“Anyways, why were you asking if there were other people on the island?” Magnus asked.  

“I was wondering if you would like to go for a swim.” 

“Do Shadowhunters swim?” Magnus teasingly asked.  

“Of course, we swim,” Alec replied with feigned outrage. “It is part of our training. Come, Magnus, I race you.” He added standing up. 

“That is no fair,” Magnus protested. “You are practically naked already.” 

“But you have magic,” Alec retorted as he headed towards the door, finally removing the shirt that until then had been the only piece of clothing he had on. “Come on old man.” 

“Who are you calling an old man?” Magnus asked, trying to sound offended but distracted by the way the sun illuminated Alec’s glorious body, that body that just minutes ago had been shuddering in his arms.  

By way of an answer, Alec winked, the gesture daringly playful, before taking off at a run towards the shore. Peeling off his clothes as he went, Magnus followed a few steps behind. He did not try to overrun Alec because he did not want to miss the chance to see Alec’s magnificent naked body, moving with a poise and agility that could only be a gift from angels. Watching Alec moving with such unguarded and unself-conscious grace, Magnus was almost overcome by a feeling of gratitude. For of all the people Alec could have chosen, he had chosen him to share this intimacy and closeness with. Magnus could not yet believe that he got to see Alec like this: with his guard down, with his feelings exposed, devoid of armor.  

As soon as Alec reached the water, he leaped and then dived head first into the ocean. His naked body moving with grace under the turquoise surface. “Come on Magnus, the water is great!” he called out when he surfaced a few meters away. He laughed then, and his laugh was the laugh of a child, careless and playful. Unable to resist that contagious energy, Magnus too dived in, the water awakening all his senses, pushing away any exhaustion left over from their eventful evening. When he too came up for air a few moments later, Alec’s arms were waiting for him.  

They floated and splashed in the water for a while, laughing and playing like children, completely unconcerned about anything that was not the joy of being together under the morning sun. After a while, Alec approached Magnus and, wrapping his arms around him, kissed him deeply, slowly and long, the taste of salt and sea on their lips adding to the incredible sensation of their mouths exploring each other. “Come, Magnus,” he said once his mouth broke contact and, taking Magnus hand, guided him out of the water.  

As they made their way back to the cottage, Magnus waved his hand and a pair of towels materialized on the back of a lounge chair. Alec picked one up and turning began to dry Magnus’ skin, softly running the cloth down Magnus’ chest and back, along his arms and through his hair. He followed the movements of his hands with his mouth as he licked the salt off his husband’s skin. Magnus’ closed his eyes and concentrated every cell and nerve on the sensation of Alec’s tongue and the movements of his hands.  

“Your skin seems to shine like gold in the sun,” Alec whispered in Magnus’ ear. “I don’t think you have ever looked more beautiful to me than you look now.” A deep kiss silenced any response, a kiss that was a promise of hours of pleasure and passion to come. Slowly and teasingly, Alec slid the towel once again down Magnus’ back until he reached the warlock’s behind. Once there, he let the cloth fall to the ground so his own hands could wrap themselves around Magnus’ buttocks and pulled him closer. He reclaimed the warlock’s mouth then, capturing with the kiss the gasp that escaped Magnus’ lips, and this time, the kiss was an act of possession, a demand for unconditional surrender, a demand that Magnus knew he was powerless to refuse.  

“Warlock,” Alec whispered, his lips barely leaving Magnus’ mouth, “take me to bed and make love to me.” He then possessed those lips once again, hungrily and urgently.  

It was now Magnus the one to wrap his arms around Alec’s waist, his hands the ones to reach Alec’s naked behind, his arms the ones to pull the Shadowhunter to him, rejoicing in the incredible sensation of Alec’s reawaken desire.  

“Come Shadowhunter,” he whispered a moment later, taking Alec by the hand and guiding him back inside the house and to their bed, determined to stake a permanent claim to Alec’s body, to break himself a thousand times like a wave against Alec’s shores.  

For hours, Alec and Magnus got lost in each other, tasting sea salt from each other’s skin, running fingers through each other’s hair, rediscovering anew territories already traveled but still not completely explored. With the playful motions of his tongue, Alec extracted more and more delicious sounds of pleasure from Magnus, and with deft fingers, Magnus traced new lines along Alec’s skin, probing and teasing until Alec felt heady from so much desire.  

“I feel you inside me Magnus, body, mind and soul,” Alec whispered hours later, his words almost incoherent. Magnus was sitting cross-legged, Alec sitting astride him, his long legs wrapped around Magnus’ hips, as he moved at the rhythm of Magnus’ building climax, and as together they single-mindedly searched for that indescribable feeling of coming apart in each other’s arms. Magnus wrapped his arms more firmly around Alec, holding him closer, wanting their skins to fuse together, his heart and the Shadowhunter’s beating as one. With an equal need to become one, Alec kissed Magnus, his lips demanding and offering. A second later, Alec moved his hips in the most exquisite undulation and before he could stop himself, Magnus broke apart in a million pieces, defeated by this young inexperienced lover that still managed to take him to the very gates of heaven.  

A moment later, his mouth buried in Magnus’ neck, his lips calling his name, his fingers entangled in his hair, Alec too came undone in rippling waves of ecstasy that reverberated throughout his whole body and extended into Magnus’ body, prolonging his own orgasm, squeezing and extracting more and more sounds of pleasure from the warlock until Magnus thought there was nothing left in him. They held on to each other for a long time, as they shuddered and shivered with the aftershocks of their shared climax, and as they spoke to each other in the ancient language that only true lovers ever master.  

When he felt he could once again trust his own body, Magnus leaned back on the bed pulling Alec along, until they both laid side by side, Alec holding Magnus, and Magnus’ head resting on Alec’s chest. As their breathing began to settle, with a wave of his hand, Magnus made the sheets covered them. He then brought his nose to the crook of Alec’s neck and inhaled deeply, the scent of the sea and of Alec soothing. Before either of them knew, they were dozing off to sleep, sated at least for the moment. 

The sun had set, plunging the room in darkness, when hours later, Alec sighed deeply and opened his eyes. The bed seemed suddenly empty and when he turned, he realized that Magnus was no longer beside him. Still drowsy, he looked around and after confirming that the room too was empty, he reached with his hearing, listening for Magnus. The scent of food reached him before the sounds of his husband in the kitchen did, and the aroma made his mouth water. He realized that he had not eaten since the wedding reception and that after the exertions of the last few hours, his body was demanding nourishment.  

Alec reached with his mind towards the next room, searching for Magnus and when he felt the familiar connection to his husband, he smiled. For he knew that Magnus was waiting for him. Not wanting to keep him waiting, he got up and walked towards the enormous bathroom in search of a quick shower. On his way back a few minutes later, he saw his suitcase beside Magnus’ suitcase on top of a dresser. Magnus had likely transported them to the cottage prior to their arrival. Alec rummaged and extracted a pair of black track pants and a grey t-shirt from his bag, and hastily donned them on as he made his way out of the room.  

He found Magnus setting the table out in the terrace, magically lightening candles with a snap of his fingers. He approached him from behind and wrapped his arms around Magnus’ chest, Magnus instantly leaning back against him. “Hello husband,” Alec whispered, and he planted a tender kiss on the side of Magnus’ neck. 

“Hi husband,” Magnus replied. He turned his face, lifted an arm around Alec’s neck and invited him to kiss him on the lips. “Did you sleep well?” he asked once Alec broke the kiss.  

“Like the dead,” Alec replied, “though it looks like I slept the day away.” 

“It is the time difference,” Magnus replied. “Your internal clock will catch up soon. Dinner is ready.”  

“Yum, I am so hungry.” 

They ate by candlelight on the terrace and under a starry sky. They shared dishes of grilled fish, rice wrapped in banana leaves, spicy stewed potatoes, and fresh fruit served in clay dishes. Magnus mixed Lychee Martinis, but Alec drunk only one. He had never been much of a drinker and he did not want to mess up his internal clock even more by adding alcohol to the mix.  

After dinner, they moved to a long wicker sofa. Alec sat with his back against the arm and Magnus leaned his back against his chest, Alec’s arm sheltering him. As they looked up at the heavens, Magnus regaled Alec with stories from this part of the world, sharing some of the few happy memories from his childhood and relating some of his adventures during his previous visits to the region.  Alec laughed at the anecdotes and asked pointed questions, eager to know more about his husband’s history.  

“You know,” Magnus said at one point, “for a long time I could not think of this place without sadness and resentment. I lost so much here: my mother, my innocence, the illusion of having a home.” 

“And now?” Alec asked, as he took a lock of Magnus’ hair and wrapped it around one of his fingers.  

“Now I have you,” Magnus responded as he turned to look at Alec. “You have given me home and family. I don’t need anything else.” 

“I hope you never regret having trusted me with your heart and happiness, Magnus.” 

“I am sure I won’t,” Magnus replied as he tenderly kissed Alec. “Aren’t you afraid of the future, Alexander?” he asked turning to look up at the sky, scanning, Alec knew, for the sign that would announce that the angel’s prophecy was coming true.  

“I am not afraid,” Alec replied, not a thread of doubt in the words. “As long as we are together, we can overcome anything.” 

Magnus turned to look at the Shadowhunter again, a wide smile on his face, and the Shadowhunter’s lips were waiting, ready and willing to seal once again their commitment and union with a kiss.  

This is how Magnus and Alec’s married life began. In years and decades to come, they became a power couple, a pillar of Nephilim and Downworld society, a force to reckon with. While they fought in many battles and were responsible for many victories over the years, their union and love were cemented, not in big gestures or spic wars. Rather, their relationship was solidified in small and quiet moments; in countless mornings in which they woke up wrapped in each other’s arms; in thousands of small gestures; in the joy of shared meals; in the ease with their clothes hanged together in the same closet and their shoes sat side by side by the entrance to their home.  Their love grew and flourished in the millions of moments that made up the shared life of a Shadowhunter and a Warlock. 

Over the years, Magnus and Alec scanned the heavens, searching for that red star that would mark the beginning of the biggest trial of their lives. Sometimes, months passed and neither of them spoke of Zadkiel’s prediction, busy as they were building a family and working for a better world for the Nephilim and the Downworld. Yet, the prophecy was never too far from their minds. Many years passed before that fated star finally appeared in the sky and when it finally did, Alec and Magnus were not concerned or surprised. For, as Zadkiel had declared, they were ready, and when the time came, they marched together into battle, as strong and determined as ever. 

Much can be said about the war Zadkiel foretold. However, that is a matter for another tale. 

 

**Well, that’s it.  Thank you for reading.**

**Leave a comment and let me know what you think.** ****

**The End…** ****


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